Magic's Path
by Icaros Rising
Summary: What would have happened if Tylendel had not died that night? This is for all those who can't bear to let him go. The future has many paths - especially where magic is involved. TylendelxVanyel - obviously. NO Stefen.
1. Prologue

**Summary: **What would have happened if Tylendel had not died that night? This is for all those who can't bear to let him go. The future has many paths - especially where magic is involved. TylendelxVanyel (obviously) NO Stefen AT ALL.

**Guidelines: **The Prelude of my story deals with that Sovvan-night: nothing has changed until this point, from Gala's repudiation of Tylendel to the boys' rescue by Savil and the other Heralds, the backlashing of the Gate-energy through Vanyel, and Tylendel fleeing into the Grove.

After the Prologue I leave a gap before Chapter 1: Vanyel, thinking Tylendel dead, runs into the storm, is Chosen by Yfandes and is finally found and returned to his room in Savil's suite. After _that_ my story really begins as the plot diverges more from the original, with the consequences of Tylendel's survival. What are the Heralds going to do about a trainee without a Companion? Or someone who dreams with Foresight, hindsight, and visions of other might-have-beens?

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters or Valdamar. They belong to Mercedes Lackey and I use them with great respect for her writings.

**Warning:** Stefen does NOT exist in this alternate reality. (And there are too many Stefen-stories out there...)

**Prologue**

Vanyel stumbled forward, clutching himself against the cold that wracked his body. He burned with a pain so intense, so all-encompassing, it seemed to have stolen his mind. He couldn't think, couldn't feel except to hurt, and had no real idea why he was moving forward, on legs that were felt as much a part of him as dead wood. When he fell, he had not the wit to try save himself, but lay on the cold ground too drained to even wonder why.

Lightning lit the dark shadows of the trees and, as if hearing his name shouted into the night, he looked up. His eyes locked with those of the figure racing towards him, night-black eyes, holding nothing of sanity, drowning in loss —

_Tylendel._

Savil saw Tylendel dash out of the trees, dash past her. She forced her legs to carry her forward, reached out but knew already that she could not reach him, that he would pass his lover without pause.

Vanyel's head snapped up, eyes equally dark in his so white face. And Tylendel stopped, brought up as suddenly as if he had run into an invisible wall. He stood for a moment still and seemingly lifeless as marble, as Vanyel lay, moaning in pain, on the ground before Tylendel —

— who crumpled, like a puppet with cut strings —

— and Vanyel screamed.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Tylendel woke to a great, aching hole where something used to be. Gala was gone. Staven and now Gala. The look in her eyes just before she had charged the _wyrsa_ seared his soul – _you are not my Chosen_. Against his will tears leaked from his closed eyes, and he blinked.

"Awake at last, 'Lendel?"

He turned from Savil's voice at the bedside. Guilt wracked him and he wished she would leave him alone. He did not deserve her forgiveness even if she could bring herself to offer it.

"'Lendel, I know you need time to deal with everything; I wish I could give you time, _but we don't have that luxury_."

Tylendel wanted to shout at her, as he had done before when she pressed him about his family, but instead he lay silent, defiant. What could possibly be more important than what he had done. He had killed Gala – killed her as surely as if he had plunged a knife into her white throat. And all for family, and the only one of his family who might – _might _– have been worth that sacrifice was Staven, and he was already dead. Both gone, leaving behind a hole that made him ache for oblivion.

Savil put a hand on his shoulder. "You know I stand for the Heralds with trainees; the trainees _must_ be my first priority. Right now I don't think you count as one anymore, but there's someone else who does. 'Lendel, I don't think I can pull Vanyel through this without your help."

Her words hit Tylendel like a slap in the face and he turned abruptly to face his teacher. "Van?" He had not even considered his beloved since they came through the Gate. Savil's words didn't seem to make any sense. "What's wrong with Van?"

"He's always had strong latent Gifts," Savil explained, "but when the Gate spell rebounded through him it blasted all of them open. He's got a case of backlash worse than you had, and channels as raw as fresh meat."

_O gods, Van! not Van too_. "Where is he?" he gasped and his voice cracked with pain and recent trauma.

"He's in his own room and under tight shields, thanks to Yfandes," Savil said. "You're back in your old room, at least till we could work out what was best for both of you."

_Yfandes?_ "I need to see him, please, I've got to be with him." He found himself aching now for that contact with the one truly special person that remained to him. And it seemed too that somewhere, in the region of that terrible emptiness, was something that was not empty but still was hurting almost as badly as the other. If Van was suffering – if he didn't recover – _O _Ashke_, I'm sorry! O Gala – Staven – O _Ashke_! _

He had had to close his eyes again against the tears; he felt Savil wipe at them with something. "I don't think you can make it on your own two feet," she said, "I'll have to get Jaysen to carry you." Tylendel wasn't listening: he just had to go. He blinked his eyes open again and tried to push himself up, but his body didn't seem to be working properly. Savil pushed him back against the pillows with ease. "Just lie still, 'Lendel, Jaysen's coming to help you now."

Something of what Savil had said penetrated his foggy mind – _Yfandes? Yfandes the Companion – the unbonded Companion? _ Why would a Companion be shielding Vanyel? And Savil had said something about him counting as a trainee. "Van's been Chosen?" he demanded.

Savil nodded, "Yes, _Ke'chara_." Gala gone and Vanyel Chosen the same night. _And why would he need me if he's got Yfandes – gods, he's got a _Companion_! But I need him. I've got nothing left without him. _


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

What was dream, what was reality? He had dreamed that Tylendel was not dead and was teasing him about how much he had grieved. He had dreamed that Tylendel was not dead but was lost in some other dark and hurtful way. He had dreamed of the ice, he had dreamed his death. But he was not in the frozen canyon now, he was lying in his own blood, crimson pooling on the white marble of the Temple floor, near the bier of his love who lay so peacefully, as if only asleep, except that Tylendel never slept in anything other than a sprawl.

_'Lendel, I'm sorry ... I will pay for what I did to you ... if I can._

:_Chosen!_: Not even Yfandes could stop him now. She was far too late.

:_I'm sorry, Yfandes. You'll find someone better than me._:

_'Lendel, forgive me ... if you can!_

Her voice filled his mind like the roaring of a great river in the ears of the drowning:

_:It was not so. Chosen, it _is_ not so.:_

* * *

Vanyel woke and opened his eyes and found that he was in his own bed, in his own room. He turned his head and saw Tylendel lying beside him, eyes closed and the golden curls tumbled against his temple. It was the vision from the Temple again and it was here in his own room and it was _worse,_ because 'Lendel no longer looked serene and beautiful, but ghastly pale with dark-smudged eyes and a face as drawn and full of pain as a ghost's.

For a moment he nearly screamed aloud, but Yfandes was in his mind again and as if her presence re-made the image before him he looked again, and saw the slow rise and fall of the chest and the sprawl of a Tylendel who could never sleep any other way, except in death.

All this took barely a second and then the eyes opened and he looked into a darkness that seemed empty as the night between the stars.

There was pain there, but it was a human pain, and a pain that seemed an echo of his own even as he echoed it back, so that the grief looped between them and it was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended.

"_Ashke_?" Tylendel's voice was low, barely above a breath.

He wanted to say his name, but all that came out was a small, inarticulate sound. He tried to reach out, but his hand was heavy and slow. The blankets stirred and he couldn't even find his own arm, let alone 'Lendel beside him, and his head hurt with a fierceness that muddled his thoughts.

A cold hand found his and grasped at it weakly somewhere under the covers. So cold.

"You need ... get warm," he muttered, frightened more than a little because 'Lendel felt cold to _him_ and he himself was shivering, somewhere down inside. Where he wasn't burning with pain.

He tried to move again and succeeded in shifting a bit closer to his lover. Tylendel still looked lost, more like a troubled ghost than a human being.

"I'm sorry, Van, I'm so, so sorry."

Vanyel could feel the emptiness there, could hear like an echo behind the words:

:_I killed Gala. I've hurt Van. I don't have anything left, I don't deserve anything. I should die._:

:No!: He wasn't sure if he spoke aloud or not. All he knew was that Tylendel's despair filled him with a fear worse than anything he had ever known before.

Perhaps something remained from the dream. Perhaps the dream had been real after all. Perhaps the thoughts arose from his own terrible sense of guilt, or perhaps they came from somewhere outside, picked up by these new senses that had accosted him. His mind was too muddled to separate the possibilities.

:_It's my fault. I shouldn't have let you. I should have loved you enough to stop you. It's because of what _I _am...:_

:_Stop it!_: There was an edge to Yfandes mindvoice that had not been directed at him before. She sounded almost sharp with her Chosen, but there was grief there too and still compassion — for both of them. :_You sound like children — fighting over blame! The fault is shared, and more than the two of you have a share in it. Savil does too, and the Lesharas and Staven. Even poor Gala!_:

Tylendel's eyes were wide with shock — Vanyel had no doubt he had heard Yfandes too. They also somehow were closer in the bed. Without clearly knowing how he had moved, Vanyel found himself looking into his lover's dark, hurt eyes across only an inch or so of empty pillow.

Tylendel closed the space, throwing his arm awkwardly around Van and hugging him close. Vanyel held him back with what strength he had — he still felt too cold by far.

"Hot, _Ashke_. Need a Healer," Tylendel muttered, but Vanyel hardly cared. He thought he heard Yfandes talking to someone else, thought he heard others in the room, or the suite, or perhaps somewhere else entirely, but he seemed to have used up what resources he had for the moment. The pain still burned somewhere inside and his whole body ached, but all he could do was hold 'Lendel to him as an antidote against more nightmares. Yfandes could deal with the rest. Yfandes would keep them safe.

:_I will, Beloved, I promise._:

* * *


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Jaysen was hovering in the doorway to Vanyel's room when Savil eventually hauled herself out of her own bed to check on her charges. He looked exhausted and uncomfortable on the stool he'd set in the doorway itself, leaning against the jamb. He looked up when she approached, starting a little as if he had been dozing.

"I was at the bedside most of the day," he assured her, forestalling her accusation. "But Felar says Yfandes doesn't want me in there."

Savil looked in, half expecting the worst, but her fears were quickly dispelled. Vanyel and Tylendel were huddled tightly together in the middle of the bed, still swathed in blankets and, although both were deathly pale, even from here she could hear the faint rasp of Van's breathing.

:_Tell Yfandes she had better not object to _me_ taking care of her Chosen,_: she told Kellan sharply as she hurried over to the bedside and pressed a hand to the younger boy's pale forehead under the falling shadow of his hair. He was dangerously hot.

"Get Andrel," she snapped to Jaysen, even as Kellan informed her that Yfandes had no problem with _her_, it was the man who was doing the damage. "Wait," she changed her order. "_Send_ someone for Andy and then for the gods' sakes tell me what's happened."

She lowered herself into the chair by the bed as she waited for Jaysen to come back. When he did she held up a hand to hold him at his post in the doorway and turned her chair so that she could speak to him from there. The younger Herald looked mutinous at her abrupt manner, but he was also worried.

"I didn't do a thing, Savil, and I would have woken you if anything really went wrong. They both slept, at least as far as I could tell. I closed my eyes for a bit, and when I looked again it looked like Vanyel was having a bad dream or something. Then he woke up and Tylendel too and they were talking a little, but so softly I don't know what about. It was obvious they didn't even know I was there, so I sort of retreated out here for a bit." He looked uncomfortable and Savil remembered that Jaysen didn't exactly approve of 'Lendel's preferences. "When I looked back they were like that, and I would have gone back to my chair except that Felar informed me that Yfandes didn't want me anywhere near Vanyel. I wasn't going to leave though, and it didn't look like anything had changed for the worse, so I stayed out here." He shrugged.

Savil sighed. "Thank you, Jays. I don't know what went wrong, but we'll have to find out. I just hope Andrel can deal with the fever, and as for the rest — I really don't know."

* * *

Andrel arrived as soon as could be expected, although Savil was counting each rasping breath by the time the Healer finally appeared. He didn't hesitate, but shifted the sleepers so that he could put a hand to Vanyel's chest. Neither boy woke, although Vanyel coughed harshly and Andrel frowned. He had had little enough time to rest - it was not really that long since he had spent himself tending to both Tylendel and Vanyel - and Savil could see his fatigue as he fought down the boy's fever.

_Not that too. We have enough to deal with here without adding physical illness._

By the time Andrel withdrew his hand, Vanyel seemed to rest easier. His breathing was quiet and he no longer shivered with fever. Her heart aching, Savil helped the green-robed Healer to shift both boys to lie more comfortably in the wide bed. Both faces rivaled the pillows for whiteness and she brushed her fingers through 'Lendel's no longer gleaming blond curls.

_Oh, my dears, what you have been through!_

She led Andrel back into the common room. Jaysen hovered, casting a hesitant glance towards the sickroom.

"Uh, Savil, if you don't need me for anything else right now..."

"Go rest," she told him, too tired to argue. "I'll wake Mardic or Donni: they've had a few hours." He wasn't going to be much good anyway, with Yfandes barring him from the bedside.

* * *

Not long after she sat with Andrel over the supper that Margret had brought in. Sovvan-night was long over and the grey day was quickly fading into another cold night. Savil felt as tired as if she had not spent most of the day in bed, but she was wearily glad that they had not gained two new ghosts this Festival.

She and Andrel had shared many a private meal over the years, some even feeling as tired and drained as they both did now. None, as heartsick.

"I've fought off the fever for now," Andy explained. "But there's still the danger of pneumonia from exposure and the energy overload: his body is almost completely depleted. He can't fight illness in the state he's in, and he's not going to be able to build up his energy if his body keeps burning it off."

"Gods!" She rubbed at her still tired eyes. "So we've got backlash shock from when the Gate energy was pulled from him and more from when it routed back into him. We've got the trauma you always get with Gifts wakened late or early, and the problems that come when Gifts manifest at full strength from the start. We've got channels that were _burned_ open instead of opening naturally. And now you tell me he's in danger of catching pneumonia!" The sheer magnitude of the list almost made her laugh in horror. "Well, at least 'Lendel isn't fevered. But I can't help hoping that he stays sleeping for now, because I have _no idea_ how to deal with _his_ problems." She rested her forehead againt her hands and sighed. _Why me?_ "I'm not good with people, dammit."

"I wish I could help more, Savil," Andy said, his voice full of compassion. "I Heal bodies, but I simply don't know what to do for Vanyel's tattered mind, and as for hearts - I don't know of anyone who Heals hearts."

Savil lifted her head and took another mouthful of her dinner before she spoke. "We need Lancir, but he's who knows how many days travel away."

"You can't send for him?" the Healer asked. "Or set up another Gate?"

Savil shook her head. "We don't even know where he is exactly, so we _can't_ Gate. And apparently Van is just not that important."

"What about Tylendel?" Andrel asked. "A herald whose Companion repudiated him? I can't even imagine what the Circle's going to do about that."

"To be honest, neither can I. But we have to wait for Lancir for the full Circle to meet, so nothing is going to be done for a while. Which I suppose gives both boys at least some respite."

She paused and they ate for a while in silence. "Any idea why Yfandes wouldn't want Jaysen in the room?" she asked eventually.

Andy shrugged. "Once again, not my area of expertise. If anyone knows anything about Companions, it's you Heralds. But with channels that open I would hazard a guess that he's picking up more than surface thoughts without even trying."

"And Jays did say he seemed to be nightmaring. Perhaps something _he _was thinking set Van off — those damned Kleimar prejudices of his —"

She reached for Kellan and as usual found the Companion no further than the thickness of a thought away.

:_Dear Heart, did Yfandes say _why_ she got rid of Jays? Was he causing Vanyel's nightmares? _:

:_She didn't, but I'll check..._: Kellan's mind faded for a moment and then returned. :_Good guess, Chosen. Apparently Jaysen's thoughts that Vanyel was to blame for what happeened, that he was using Tylendel and praying on his weaknesses, set the boy off. He was becoming dangerously lost in his dreams — whatever that means..._:

"Well, that answers that," she told Andrel. "Kellan agrees. Which means we have to keep Jays away and anyone else who might harbour destructive opinions of the boy. Which, given his earlier performances, is almost every Herald in the Palace." She sighed.

"I'd say Tylendel was the best one to leave with him," the Healer said thoughtfully "— at least he trusts him. Except, as you have said, Tylendel's got problems of his own."

"And gods know how that's going to play out. Apart from being thrown back to square one where the backlash sickness is concerned, I just don't know how 'Lendel's going to deal with everything. I've misunderstood him dangerously once already." Savil pushed her plate away and looked down, suddenly feeling every day of her age. "I thought I was going to lose him that night, Andy. And I still don't know what he might do. 'Lendel's always been volitile..."

* * *

**A/N: **My appologies to those who found some of this a bit familiar - I felt that the explanation was still needed, both for those who haven't read the book recently and to highlight the differences in the situation. Bear with me. :)

Also the punctuation of Mindspeech seems to be working, but I know others have had problems with it. Please aalert me if anything doesn't make sense.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The Palace rocked on it's foundations as Vanyel's screams split the night. He sounded barely human, like something in it's death agonies. His wide staring eyes saw nothing as he convulsed in the bed. And the very earth convulsed with him ...

* * *

He stood in the mountain pass. Hewn by magic, tainted by blood, here it was only wide enough for two men to pass abreast. But none would pass. Not while he, Vanyel, stood to block their way. Here he could hold the dark army until help came. He had sent Yfandes and Stefen back —

— _?_ —

— he had sent Yfandes and Tylendel back —

— _Tylendel? Tylendel was dead _—

Light flared in his upheld hand. An army he could hold, even a wizard such as the one that stepped through their ranks was no match for him.

But _three_ against one were tough odds, even for him.

Help would not be coming. Even a Companion could only run so fast. He was going to die here, alone, so completely alone, as he had always feared.

:_Van!_:

The touch seared like fire through his very mind. He struck out at his attacker, struck in desperation, struck to kill. And recognised —

_'Lendel!_

He pulled it, pulled most of it. But that sent the power coursing back down those burned and raw places. He lost his mind to the agony.

A sharp physical shock pulled him back, pulled him out of an ocean of in-sentient pain. His eyes flew open and he shivered violently. He was soaking, and so were the bedclothes! The red-haired Healer was bending over him. He propped Van up and began pulling the wet things from around him. From here he could see Savil and another Herald - Jaysen - as well as the chaos that seemed to have overtaken his room. And over by the wall he caught a glimpse of Mardic and Donni bending over a sprawled figure.

'_Lendel...!_

Fear hit him like a black demon, ravaging his soul unmercifully. He seemed to remember - as if it was one of the terrible dreams - Tylendel lying broken and lifeless on the frozen ground. Guilt washed him and he was not even sure what for, but he seemed to be drowning in it. Suddenly he realised that he was open - everyone in the room, everyone within some distance, was feeling his pain, more surely than if he screamed it aloud. As if his mind were naked to the world.

He closed. He didn't know how but he shut them forcefully out of his mind.

And in the silence of being alone, he Felt that Tylendel was only unconscious, was still among the living. Something that was 'Tylendel' was still there, even after he shut all the rest out. Yet as soon as he thought that, tried to follow the link, pain lanced through his head like a knife. The walls trembled.

Around him, Savil and the other Herald looked up.

"Andy..." Savil sounded worried and also very weary.

"I know. Get the boy out of these wet things and into a dry bed as soon as possible. Sooner."

It was the other Herald who lifted him out of the sodden bed, while Donni rushed forward and began stripping off the sheets.

"How's 'Lendel?" he heard Savil asking, heard Mardic assure her he was all right.

_Could have told you that..._

"Get him into the bed in the other room. When Andy's finished here..."

They were taking 'Lendel away. Vanyel was so exhausted he couldn't even protest. _And maybe it's better — next time I might not be able to stop myself._ Yet without Tylendel there, Vanyel feared the nightmares even more, feared they would only get worse.

When the Healer held something to his lips he drank without protest. He wasn't really surprised to feel himself drifting away. He even welcomed it.

* * *


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Van? Vanyel-ashke?_ He was lost, somewhere in the darkness of his mind. There was only emptiness here and his cries echoed back to him unanswered. Like a blind man seeking light he groped after the warmth of a presence that might lead him out.

_Ashke! _But the emptiness sucked down his thoughts in a tightening spiral.

_Gala!_ No, wait —

_That_ sent memory ripping through his mind, the memories he had, after all, sought an escape from in the dark. Blood on white. Sapphire eyes bright with power and rejection —

He screamed in an anguish of utter loss.

A sharp, stinging pain snapped his eyes open. His cheek stung and he had to blink several times to focus on the figure of Savil looming over him, one hard hand still raised. Her eyes narrowed as they met his own, wide with surprise.

"Savil!" A voice from the doorway, sounding equally surprised.

"Well, it did snap him out of it," she growled. "Which is more than anything else we've tried." She sat down on the edge of his bed, her manner softening although her gaze never left his.

"Come on, lad, come back to us now."

Tylendel shook his head a little - it ached. "Where's Van?" he demanded weakly. "Why did you take me away?"

"He threw you across the room in his sleep," Savil told him matter of factly. "Andy's got him drugged for now, but I didn't feel like adding your cracked scull to our problems."

Tylendel remembered now. He had woken because Vanyel was tossing with nightmare. Still weak and with what may as well have been miles of space between them in the bed, he had reached out to him with his mind.

The attack that had been turned on him was awesome in its sheer, raw power. But Vanyel, even lost in some dark dream, had realised what he was doing and pulled it at the last minute. Which had flooded all that raw power into his already burned channels.

Tylendel remembered with a horrible clearness the flash of white hot agony that he had Felt before something knocked him senseless.

Van had always suffered from bad dreams. He remembered from before - so long ago it seemed now - a white face, swollen-eyed and raw with weeping:

_"Do this often?" _

_"Often enough." _

And not long after:

_"And if you go — I won't have any choice but the ice —" _

He had kept away the nightmares: Vanyel had told him so himself, in the dark warmth of a shared nest of blankets one night:

_"There's no ice anymore, and I'm not alone."_ With that smile of tentative openness that could steal his breath away.

But there was someone else now, who had promised to guard him from the dreams.

"Yfandes. Why didn't she stop him?"

He didn't know how long he'd let the memories carry him. Savil was still there beside him and Donni was just setting a tray on the bedside table.

"The bond's still weak," Savil explained as she leaned forward and started to prop up the pillows so that he could sit up a bit. He tried to push her away, but she ignored him. "It fades in and out and sometimes it even hurts him, like the rest of his new Gifts."

"The Companions say physical contact would help strengthen it," Donni put in, her expression unusually serious. "But Andrel's threatened to have Savil up on charges if she puts him out in the stable: he's still in danger of pneumonia." She ducked back through the doorway and disappeared.

Savil picked up the tray. "Maybe you can help, but you're not moving from this bed until you eat something." And she plunked it down on his lap.

Savory steam rose from the bowl of soup, but the smell only threatened to turn Tylendel's stomach. He gazed at the spoon with a strange intensity.

_If I eat, I'll get stronger - I won't be able to hide from the memories. If I eat, I live — why should I live after what I did? I killed Gala! Can Savil really look at me and tell me I deserve to live after that? Can even she manage that? _

The darkness threatened at the corners of his mind, but that wasn't right either. He didn't want to sink back down — he wanted, suddenly and with a mad desperation, a high place from which he could fail to fly.

Firm hands gripped him. "Don't you go away on me again, you hear. 'Lendel! Vanyel needs you, so you eat that soup and pull yourself together."

_The fault is shared, and more than the two of you have a share in it._ He remembered Yfandes' words with sharp clarity. She was right — or was she? _And why did I hear her voice?_

His hand moved and fumbled with the spoon in the cooling soup.

_No!_ He pushed it away instead. Soup splashed.

Savil rested a hand on his leg under the covers, her manner suddenly gentle. "There's something else, _ke'chara_. You and Vanyel share a lifebond."

He should have been surprised but he wasn't. In a strange, clear way it made a lot of sense.

"Now, I don't know much about lifebonds," Savil continued, "— they're not exactly a silver a dozen after all — but I think you may be my surest way of getting Vanyel though this. And with all the trauma he's going through at the moment, I'd say it's very possible that losing you could be more than he can handle."

_O gods, must I kill everything I care for? Gala, even Staven — and now Van._ If he followed his impulse, if he accepted the punishment he deserved, Van would die too. He couldn't do it.

Carefully, Savil replaced the soup spoon in his hand. Without really thinking he dipped it into the broth and raised it awkwardly to his mouth. He slopped half of it before he could get it to his lips, but he drank down what he could and reached for more. One spoon, half a spoon at a time he laboured through the bowl of soup.

* * *

A patch of sunlight. Leaning against Tylendel with a Companion at his back. Sometimes he couldn't keep straight when this was, what had happened or not happened. Sometimes he thought it was Gala that they leant against — no, he simply assumed it was Gala. When he could think at all past the numbness of the Healer's potions, he knew it was his own Companion. Gala was dead. Which was why 'Lendel, although he sat here beside him, the two of them wrapped in the same blankets and leaning into each other, 'Lendel was quiet and distant, his eyes empty as the dead.

The one time they left him here without 'Lendel, he had slipped into sleep — as he spent most of the days and nights it seemed — and suddenly he knew it was all a dream. 'Lendel was not with him because he was _dead_ and his father stood in front of him thinking _Pervert_ and _Ungrateful brat_ at the top of his mind.

Yfandes had pulled him out of that one, her gentle but firm touch shredding the dream and bringing him back to waking reality. 'Lendel was kneeling on the grass in front of him, a blanket draped across his shoulders, reaching out to him. His dark eyes were full of fear.

Vanyel reached out, pulling free of the blankets to clasp 'Lendel's hand in both his own. He couldn't find the words for his own fear, although his mind felt clearer of the drugs than usual. Tylendel leant forward, almost fell forward, wrapping his arms round Vanyel and holding him tightly.

"Don't leave me," Van managed to get out in a half-choked whisper. "I don't want to be alone!"

:_You are not alone, Chosen._:

"I know," he whispered against 'Lendel's shirt, but knowing she would hear him. "I need you, 'Fandes. But 'Lendel —" :_I'm so afraid of losing him! The dreams —_:

:_Dreams, Chosen. Only dreams._: Her soft nose nuzzled his neck. He felt the warmth of her breath in his hair.

"Van? Van-_ashke_?" 'Lendel was rubbing his back soothingly with one hand as he held him. "I won't leave you, _ashke_. Promise."

He nodded, comforted, at least for the moment, by their warmth and nearness. He still hurt - sometimes he thought he'd never escape the pain - but for once he felt at peace. They settled themselves together against Yfandes' side, wrapped in blankets and each other. But Vanyel, looking up, saw the look of soul-deep pain that crossed his lover's face as he leant against Yfandes' warmth. He could not doubt the reason and his own sore heart twisted at the thought. But he forgot it soon enough: Savil brought another cup for him to drink and thought just wasn't an option after that.

* * *


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Lissa Ashkevron paused only long enough to settle her mount in the Palace stables before following the stablehand's directions to the Herald's Collegium. She had ridden the poor beast hard in her haste to reach Haven after the arrival of the letter from her aunt.

It had not said much. In fact the angular handwriting had revealed little despite it's bluntness. But one thing was clear: Van was in trouble, and she was the only one of her damned fool family that was going to stand by him. So that was what she had done — ridden her best horse as hard as she could push it to get to her brother's side. The Seven Corey Swordmaidens had clamoured to come with her — a troupe of avenging angels — but she had preferred to come alone. She could travel faster that way and, after all, Van was _her_ concern.

She had never been to Haven before, and certainly not to the Palace, but now the wide gardens and grand buildings held no interest for her. Striding across the grounds, she spared a thought from her worry for her brother to wonder what had been happening here. From Van's own short letter, she knew he had actually been happy — which had reassured her immensely — but doing something their father would throw fits about if he knew. She half expected to find that he was training as a Bard.

But then _something_ had gone horribly wrong. Van was sick. But he had been Chosen. Her aunt's letter made her think the two were connected, but being Chosen didn't make someone sick did it?

At least as a Herald he would be out of their father's reach. If she could just get him through this mysterious illness. _Don't worry, little brother, the cavalry's here!_

Perhaps she was not aware of the purposeful figure she cut, but even the Herald-trainee who directed her to Savil's rooms looked after her with wide eyed respect. She reached what she assumed to be the right door and almost ran into the girl in trainee grey who was coming out.

"I'm looking for Herald Savil," she said as the girl stopped in her tracks, hazel eyes widening at the near collision and then narrowing sharply.

"She's busy," the trainee told her flatly and shifted so that she was blocking the doorway. Although the girl was considerably shorter than Lissa and had to look up to meet her eyes, she radiated a sense of determination.

"She's my aunt," Lissa returned bluntly. "I'm here to see my brother, Vanyel."

"Oh, Van's sister —" The girl's attitude changed instantly. She was already stepping aside as a voice called from inside the room:

"Let her in, Donni."

The woman who appeared in the doorway could only be her Aunt Savil. Despite her silver hair, she radiated toughness and strength. And she had the Ashkevron nose.

"You must be Aunt Savil," Liss greeted her. "You have the nose. Now where's my brother?"

* * *

Lissa had never met her childhood idol in the flesh before. The one time Savil had come to the Ashkevron estate she had been away from home. Chance? She doubted it. More recently she had wondered if the woman she had always idolised might in reality be something of a disappointment. Now, at last, she had a chance to compare the reality with her dreams. Her Aunt was as tough as nails and as plain-spoken as the Corey armsmaster. She was also getting on in years — if not as old as her white hair suggested — and plainly worn with fatigue and worry for, it turned out, the _two_ boys in her care. Lissa found herself instantly liking this hard woman. If she herself could turn out like this, she would be all right.

Still, she did not waste much thought on these things as Savil led her through a common room and bedroom — Van's, from the lute on the wall and other bits and pieces — to look out the glass-paned doors at a pair of boys, bundled in quilts and blankets and leaning against the side of a white Companion.

"They look like the Nine Hells," was her first reaction. "What for god's sakes has been happening here?" Vanyel's usually pale face was chalky white and he rested with the boneless ease of the heavily drugged. He looked considerably worse than when his arm had been broken. The other boy looked hardly better, although he seemed more aware: his face was also pale and scored with marks of suffering. He supported Van's head against his shoulder and his own blond head drooped against Van's dark one like some ghastly representation of Sun and Shadow.

"I don't know how much Van told you," Savil responded. "But I'm guessing it wasn't much, seeing as he didn't want your father hearing so much as a whisper of what was going on here."

Liss nodded. She was already putting some things together — she wasn't stupid. _Oh, Father is going to blow his top, the old goat!_ Good thing she'd got here first. She wasn't really surprised — people often flew in one direction when they were pushed too hard the other way. She was just amazed, and more than a little pleased, that Vanyel had had the guts to go against their father's wishes when he got the chance.

"He didn't say anymore than that he was happy. Which was before this started, I'm guessing," she said and jerked her head at the trio outside.

Savil just grunted, accepting that Lissa wanted to get to the point. _She doesn't waste words either._ "Tylendel's getting over a double dose of backlash shock. So's Van. At least 'Lendel's recovering physically. Van's got new and very powerful Gifts and blasted channels. That's like having an open wound that won't heal in a place where you can't help but aggravate it constantly. Also, these Gifts of his are so powerful he can shake the Palace without knowing it or pick up things you didn't even know you'd forgotten, and we can't teach him control because it's too damn painful. And 'Lendel's Companion suicided, which hasn't _ever_ happened before as far as our omniscient records show."

"Looks like it's about time I got here," Lissa commented. "What do you need me to do?"

"First," and Savil fixed her with a piercing look, "I need you to think very carefully about how you feel about those lads being lovers, as well as any other negative feelings you might be harbouring against either of them. Vanyel _will_ pick it up and he _will_ react badly."

Lissa looked out at the two resting in the sunlight. Vanyel moved slightly and the older lad held him closer, one hand brushing his hair back from a pallid cheek. She didn't have a problem with such relationships. They weren't all that uncommon in the Guard: sometimes you took comfort where you could. She couldn't deny a little bit of discomfort at the thought of her brother having a lover _—_ _of either sex_ — but mostly she was glad that someone cared for him: few enough ever had before. It was a happiness flavoured with sorrow too, for Van would never again turn to his big sister quite like he had when they were younger.

She was smiling by the time she answered her aunt. "If Tylendel makes him happy, I'm glad for him." She turned back a little, questioning: "It is serious, I take it?"

"Lifebond, as far as we can tell," Savil replied, which did surprise her. "Mardic and Donni say so, and they would know, being bonded themselves. Lord and Lady, I must attract lifebonded or something! Why me?"

Lissa grinned. "Can't imagine, since by all accounts you're a grouchy old spinster. Oh well, even the gods like a joke, I suppose."

"Insolent chit!" Savil growled. "We'll see what you are at my age! It's the damned nose, you know."

She sighed and then smiled at her niece. The expression softened all the hardness in her face and shone in her sharp eyes. "Let's go see your brother."

* * *


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The pounding on the suite door came late. The weak sunshine of a winter's day had given way to early evening made chill by clouds and wind. Savil, with Lissa's help — bless the girl and her strong back — had settled the two lads back in their own room and Savil could now take a moment to relax with a glass of wine. The bad weather was safely shut outside, there had been no incidents today and her new helper was busy settling her few possessions into Tylendel's old room.

She cursed in sheer exasperation as someone thumped her door as if intending to break it down with their fists. Closing her eyes for a moment, she wondered if, if she just ignored it, it would go away. Fat chance of that, the way whoever it was was belaboring the door. Instead she set her glass down and strode across the room. She yanked the door open, her expression one that could have blistered paint and had blistered many a trainee and Herald alike. Even the man outside took half a step back.

"Oh," she snapped, facing her brother with feet slightly apart, arms crossed and back poker-straight. "It's _you_."

* * *

Vanyel was not awake, nor was he truly asleep. He drifted somewhere between the two, hearing the voices raised in anger nearby, but not registering the import of their words.

"_... the boy I sent you ... make a _man_ out of him ... perverted little catamite..._" The voice that had roused him out of the depths of sleep was angry and loud. It was a voice that sent a shiver of unnamed dread through him, even drugged as he was.

"_I, I, I — that's all you ... reputation more than your son's life ... What kind of a man..._" This voice was also angry, but its anger did not bring fear — rather it was a protection against the first voice and a ward against the dread.

Another voice took up when the second voice fell silent — very similar, this third voice, but it carried with it a further sense of comfort and care that could almost, if it weren't for the anger there too, have lulled him back to sleep like a child.

"_... Father! What did you ever give him ...? ... _ever_ say you loved him...?_"

"_... miracle he could recognise love when he saw it ..._"

"_What kind of a father_...?"

"_What kind of a_ man...?"

"_Is this him?_" The new voice cut through the others like a flame in the chaotic dark. It was bleak and bitter and sharp as ice and yet still it was golden honey to his senses and he strove to hear it again. The striving brought him a little nearer to true wakefulness.

"This is Vanyel's father, 'Lendel," the second voice explained — _Aunt, he thought, Aunt Savil _— even as the first voice snapped:

"Who the Hells is this?" _Father._ No wonder the voice sent a tremor of fear through him. Although Lord Withen sounded almost subdued, as if he were marshalling his anger against all opposition.

"What does he want?" Tylendel's voice sounded brittle to his ears. '_Lendel, oh 'Lendel — don't let him take me away! He can't, he can't — I'd rather die!_

"He wants what isn't his anymore. No, Withen, he's mine. Vanyel has been Chosen and he will be a Herald — _if_ he survives that long."

"So you can have little Mekeal as your heir, as you've always wanted." _Lissa, dear Liss._ "You're finally rid of Van, _Father_."

"Can I — can I at least see the boy, Savil? He is still my son, dammit!"

A pause. "'Lendel — what do you think?"

He could feel the _No!_ that wanted to burst forth. But instead when Tylendel spoke it was with strict composure.

"I'll see what Van says."

Footsteps, haltingly crossing the room. The pressure of another body on the wide bed. Tylendel didn't quite touch as he lent near and his voice was feather-soft.

"Van? _Ashke_, can you wake up — just a little?"

"Huhhhnn." It took him a while to get his eyelids to work and when they did, he had to blink heavily to bring the pale face bending over him into focus.

"Van, your father's here — he wants to see you. Van, he can't take you away, not anymore. You don't have to see him if you don't want to."

He didn't really care. He was too sleepy to deal with his father, but he was also too sleepy to care.

:_Chosen, you should see him. Otherwise you will never be free of the fear of him._:

He blinked again, still not sure.

:_It's all right. I will be with you._:

He could feel Yfandes' presence in the back of his mind, a dull ache beyond the drug-fog, but comforting in a way.

"'kay," he mumbled. "I w-will." His voice didn't work properly either. There was a bad taste in his mouth.

"You sure?" Tylendel sounded worried.

"'S all right. 'Fandes s-s-says I shu-should."

Tylendel straightened and turned away. Vanyel reached after him clumsily.

"S-stay," he answered the other's questioning look. "Please?"

'Lendel turned again and pushed himself back against the pillows next to Van.

:_Savil, he says ok._: He heard the words at a distance, as if from under water. They brought with them the dull pain of a headache.

Vanyel tried to summon some strength and pushed himself a little higher on the pillows. His ears rushed and his vision swam and for a moment he could only hear the murmur of voices, and then it cleared and he saw his father walking hesitantly across the room.

"Vanyel — son, I hear you've been sick — " His eyes slid sideways to 'Lendel, sitting in ominous silence at Vanyel's side.

_Damn pervert, preying on my son — rutting like animals — _

The words came clear as if he had spoken them aloud and with them a sense of filth, so that the touch of his thoughts sullied the mind like the scum on a stagnant pond. The anger and hatred that burned there was at odds with his cautious demeanor. His face, carefully molded into a mask of concern, overlayed thoughts broiling with outrage, righteous disappointment, anger —

_Ungrateful whelp... unnatural son... feeble... fop... _

"_Stop!_"

Van's yell — both mental and audible — shut Withen's mouth with a snap and silenced his mental stream.

"Stop _lying_, F-father. Y' always lied — all m' life you l-l-lied, but I _know _now. You couldn't c-c-care if 'm s-sick — y' never did c-care. But you can't h-hide it — no one c-can hide anything from m-m-me —"

He felt himself close to laughing, or maybe it was crying, and the words came thick and fast despite the drugs that seemed to cling to his tongue. Withen opened his mouth to interrupt, his face flushing, but Vanyel didn't give him the chance.

"I tried t-to please you, F-Father, all I ever did was t-try, but you never noticed, did you? All you did was push me away and g-give me to Jervis to knock around — and now you think — you still think — you dare to think — _I'm_ ungrateful and unnatural — and 'Lendel — don't you _dare_ think those god — damned — _filthy_ things, 'cause 'Lendel _loves_ me and you — you wouldn't even know what that means."

Now Withen took a step forward. His hands rested on his wide belt and his eyes darkened with anger. Despite the wreck of his son before him, despite the pleading and the reasoning and the heartrenching flood of words, Vanyel recognised a monumental dressing down to come. _No!_ Without thinking, with the sudden force of his own denial, he flung his father back. Withen crashed against the wall and crumpled to the floor amidst a clangor of the upset armour stand.

As he shook himself dazedly and struggled to his feet, Vanyel felt memory surface with unreal clarity —

_Knocked flat by a blow he hadn't seen coming, Jervis' voice ordering him up. Dazed, head ringing, as the powerful, unreasoning blows knocked him down again, and again, and again —_

Withen struggled to his feet. Vanyel knocked him down. Angry still, but with a calm ruthlessness that had nothing to do with his roiling emotions. He was sitting straight up now and the room around him was deadly quiet as, breathing hard, Withen pushed himself to his feet.

Vanyel knocked him down. He felt the perturbation of the others in the room, but vaguely. Yfandes was a calm presence in the back of his mind. Her presence seemed to convey approval: unemotional, reasoned, as if she knew that this was the only way to get through — perhaps — to the stubborn old lord.

Again Withen tried to get up and again Vanyel struck him down, until he lay there on the floor shocked and mute.

"See, Father," he raged, "I can be as big a bully as you, as Jervis. Does that mean I'm strong enough? Does that make you proud of me — that I knock down the weak, just because I can? Does that make you happy? _Does it make you bloody happy?_"

Lord Withen just stared, even his thoughts mute.

Something went out of Vanyel then. The anger seemed to have been drawn out with the power, and to have taken his strength with it.

"It doesn't make _me_ happy, Father," he said bitterly. "It just makes me sick. I don't know — if I'll ever be happy again."

He subsided against the pillows, turning weakly, seeking the comfort of 'Lendel's warmth. His lover, also mute, folded him in his arms. Tylendel was taught with a tangle of emotions Van was to tired to even try and unravel, and he continued to glare at Lord Withen.

"Go away, Father."

Silence for a long time.

"Would it help, if I said I was sorry?" Withen's voice sounded from the doorway, uncertain and troubled.

"Maybe, someday." There were tears in his voice, on his face — when had he started crying? "I d' know. Just go away."

Without another word, Withen left.

* * *


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"_Ashke_?" A gentle voice, a hand shaking him.

Van rose out of the dream to a warm bed, a blinding headache and Tylendel's anxious face. He sucked in a breath and shivered, cold even beneath the blankets. His head pounded and the dream seemed to cling to him with a sense of fear and loss.

"_Ashke_? You okay?" 'Lendel's eyes were dark as pits and worry made his face even more pale. Vanyel couldn't seem to see much more past the headache that blurred his vision. He nodded judiciously, and instantly regretted it.

Van gritted his teeth, breathing shallowly against the pain. As if in answer there was a rumble and the room quivered.

:_Easy._: Yfandes voice sounded steady in his mind, a still place to anchor him, and the tremours stopped abruptly. Van didn't even try to answer her. Despite the stillness he couldn't suppress the fear. Was it always going to be like this? He had lost all sense of time but it seemed forever, this wandering through pain and fearful dreams.

_I thought 'Lendel would keep the dreams away._ But it wasn't the ice dream or the one in which 'Lendel was dead, so perhaps he had. It was the canyon again, and the dark army, and dying alone.

_I don't want to die! I don't want to be alone!_

"Van!" He blinked blurred eyes. Tylendel had pulled away, breathing hard as if from a blow. "Damn potions," he muttered. "Andrel's right about them wearing off faster."

"'Lendel —" He reached out with a too-heavy hand, afraid at the look of he didn't know what in his lover's face. "What's happening — to me?"

"Dunno." Tylendel hunched up his knees under the covers and wrapped his arms round them. "At least, any more than before." He lowered his forehead onto his knees, hiding his face as he spoke. "You've got too much power, and no one knows how to handle it. It's worse — huh, _much_ worse — than when I came into my Gifts."

There was silence for a while. _Too much power? What's going to happen to me? Gods, I don't want this! Exchange this power for Gala's life? No wonder all the Herald's hate me._ It hadn't escaped his notice — or his heightened senses — that, apart from Savil and her handful of helpers, he saw no one and no one wanted to see him. He turned away, huddled in on himself. He wanted, desperately needed, to turn to Tylendel for comfort, but even if his lover's mind wasn't shouting it aloud, his posture spoke clearly enough of his own pain.

_Take it away!_ He prayed desperately to some unresponsive god. _Take it all back. Let things be the way they were before. Please._

A warm arm slipped around him, the tickle of 'Lendel's breath against his neck.

"Savil—" His voice came out thick and he cleared his throat before continuing. "—Savil is going to take you to some friends of hers. She says if they can't help you, the god of Healing himself would throw up his hands."

"Friends?" He felt a touch of reluctance — to be poked and prodded by strangers. Yet he was too tired, too hurt to object, or even care much anymore.

"Hawkbrothers. She always meant to take us to them, one day."

Vanyel nodded, slowly. The headache pounded against his skull.

"You'll be okay, _ashke_. You — have to be."

He reached up and clasped 'Lendel's hand tight in his own.

"Are you — are you coming too?"

"'Course. There'd be no point in me staying, now would there?" It was the answer Vanyel wanted, but he didn't like the note of bitterness he heard. He tried to ignore it — even the suspicion that Tylendel might not want to come with him threatened to shatter his world and his heart like thin ice.

:_He is lonely, Love. He needs you, but he is afraid._:

:_Afraid?_: That 'Lendel might need him as badly as he needed his lover, was something he had never really been sure of.

:_You give to him with an utterly open heart. More even, I think, than you open to me. Since Staven's death, and then Gala's, he is afraid to do the same. He is afraid of how much he needs you._:

:_You sure about that, 'Fandes?_: It sounded more like an assessment of himself than 'Lendel.

He Felt her snort. :_I'm smarter than you, Chosen. Take my word for it._:

Which, apparently, was the end of that conversation.

"'Lendel?" Silence, except for his rhythmic breathing against Van's neck. It seemed like he'd have to take Yfandes' word for it. Everything had changed. He hardly knew who or what he was anymore — didn't even, really, know the Companion who had bound her soul to his. Even 'Lendel was different in ways he couldn't seem to understand. Only their love still held them together with a need that ached beneath his ribs. If 'Lendel needed him as badly —

_It hurts. Everything hurts. But it's better than not feeling at all, isn't it? No more ice..._

* * *


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N:** I am really sorry this is so late! Thank you for your patience...(or perseverance at least — if you're reading this it must be one or the other.)

The problem is I have much less free time at the moment, and this part is also requiring more thought. I have to fix the problems I've given them (or have picked up from Ms Lackey). The story will continue, but more slowly.

Finally, an apology about this chapter: again a bit of repetition and much explanation, but I can't just leave it out. Hawkbrothers next chapter, promise!

**Chapter 9**

The Circle – such as were available to meet – were only too glad for her to take the boys someplace else. About half the trainees of the Collegia were still depressed from Vanyel's leakage, despite the strengthening of his bond with Yfandes. And Savil couldn't help but see that no one wanted to think about Tylendel. They had resolved not to make any decisions until Lancir returned, but even so she knew that his very existence made Heralds uneasy. He made them think of the unthinkable: death was always a reality for a Herald, but that one's Companion might die and leave the Herald behind was something far more disturbing, something no Herald wanted to consider, let alone have living proof of, walking among them.

It might have made even her uneasy, except that 'Lendal was her soul-son and right now she had no time or energy to spare on emotional hang-ups.

She was glad, on this cold, clear morning, for Andrel's quiet presence, walking beside her across the Field to the Grove. She had left all the preparation to him, him and her small coterie of helpers: she would need all her energy for the Gate.

She hated Gating. As she had had to explain to Andy — in his magical ignorance as a Healer — it played fast and loose with local weather systems and, more importantly, it could only be created with a Mage's personal energy, and it took _all_ that energy to Gate. They still had no idea how Tylendel had used Vanyel's instead of his own — it was entirely possible that it took a lifebonded pair to pull it off — and considering what had happened to Vanyel, she didn't think she'd try it, even if she did know how to.

"So we do this the hard way and I fall on my nose on the other side," she concluded to Andy as the two of them came in sight of the small party gathered before the Temple.

Two Companion's stood by the steps, their coats whiter, somehow, that the snowy ground. Mardic and Donni had loaded Kellan with Savil's packs. Lissa was at Yfandes' side, checking the straps that held the two lads in the saddle.

_Thank the Haven's for Herald saddles!_ Savil thought, not for the first time. Both boys were drugged to the teeth and would never stay a-horse on their own. Andy was of the opinion — and Savil agreed — that because Gate energy had, probably, been what blasted Vanyel's channels open, he would be sensitive to it for the rest of his life. Actually crossing a Gate was going to prove far from pleasant for the lad and she wanted him as little aware of it as possible. As they also didn't know much — make that next to nothing — about the bond the pair shared, they had decided not to take any chances and to drug Tylendel too.

The two of them sat now, slumped in the saddle, wrapped in the warmest clothing the Collegium could offer. Van's hands were tied loosely at the wrist and hooked over the pommel of the saddle. The stirrup-irons had been removed and no doubt stored in one of the packs and the stirrup-leathers now served to bind his legs to the saddle itself. Extra straps did the same for Tylendel and his arms had been looped around Vanyel's waist so that his drooping head lent against the younger boy's back. Each was belted to the other and to the pommel and high cantle. Fortunately they were neither of them heavy and Yfandes was strong — but then, she was a Companion.

She looked around now as Savil and Andrel came first to check on her charges, her sapphire eyes bright. Lissa stepped back in a brisk, military manner — surrendering her post to higher authority. Savil noticed how Yfandes reached out and touched the girl's cheek with her soft nose. Lissa reached up and patted the Companion, a small smile getting past her military mask.

At Savil's side Andy reached up and pried open Van's eyelids, his own eyes unfocusing momentarily as he checked the boy with his Healer's senses. He did the same for 'Lendel. Neither reacted in any way and Van's pupils were mere pinpricks in cloudy silver, while 'Lendel's were difficult to see in the darkness of his irises.

"They'll do, Savil. But no more drugs, after this. Tell those friends of yours—"

"They won't need telling," she reassured him, shaking her head. "They don't like drugs, especially something like argonel — they're too easy to abuse."

"I don't like them either." Andy placed his fine, Healer's hand on Van's, looking up at the ghost-like face with compassion and worry dark in his green eyes. "I hope your friends can help, Savil. Gods, his channels aren't healed at all — we have been able to do nothing for him, really."

"If they can't help, no one can," she answered and sent a quiet prayer to the gods of the Temple for the two precious young people in her charge.

Then she turned away to prepare to invoke her spell. To build a Gate.

Such a personal spell. No two people perceived the same place in exactly the same way, which was partly why there could be no sharing of energy, no helping a mage to build a Gate. The other reason was that the spell required all the builder's concentration — there was none to spare for controlling and channeling incoming energy. How had 'Lendel done it? No room for questions now. Ground and Centre. Begin the words, begin the pattern. The Temple doorway had been used for this purpose so often that there was no need to prepare it. Lines of energy snapped into place around the physical portal and she slowly reinforced the frame, layer upon layer, until it would be strong enough to hold, to act as an anchor in _this_ place when the universe folded on itself and brought _that_ place into seamless alignment.

_That _place was a cave mouth, far away in the wild Pelagirs. Savil held the image of it in her mind, spinning out tendrils of energy from the framework to seek the physical location. They spun out, farther and farther, fed by her energy as they spanned the distances. Energy flowed out of her, not fed now, but drawn, pulled by the Gate itself. She was bleeding as surely as from an open wound, and as dangerously, and she fought the Gate not to be drained to unconsciousness. This was the most dangerous part.

There. A thread snagged, caught on something. Then another joined it and another, and suddenly with a flash of light, that she sensed even through her closed eyelids, the Gate spun itself into a whole.

Savil swayed with uttermost exhaustion. Kellan, already at her side, offered sure and steady support as her Herald caught herself on the pommel of her saddle.

Through the Temple door, now, lay a wilderness of snow and jagged rocks. Dark, lowering clouds dropped whiteness that obscured the landscape mere feet from the portal. From the bright cold of the Grove, it was a dim otherworld. In his drug-induced stupor, Vanyel groaned.

_"_You're going _there_?" Lissa demanded.

* * *


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N:** In _Magic's Pawn_ Starwind and Moondance are secondary characters. Yet, as with other characters, they seem to have a life and history that we get only glimpses of. This sense of life going on irrespective of the main characters is part of the book's appeal, at least for me.

In _Magic's Path_ they have a little more prominence, partly because I sometimes need different point-of-view characters to help separate _my_ scene from the original. The other reason is that I found a sudden new interest in them thanks to Shadowfax's _**The Man in the Wind and the West Moon**_. Certain details not found in _Magic's Pawn,_ and not made up by me, are from there and I use them with permission of the author.

Thank you, Shadowfax. The rest of you — read it, it's a great story! (You can find it in my Favourites)

**Chapter 10**

Starwind k'Treva was not surprised to feel the call of the Wingsister Talisman. True, he had no reason to expect it then, he had not seen her for many, many years and had not expected it to be otherwise. Yet she was the sister-of-his-heart, and now she needed his aid.

The two _Tayledras_ traveled swiftly — after all this was their territory. Less than the whisper of a passage, two white ghosts in a white dreamworld. In the magic-warped landscape of the Pelagirs, not even a _Tayledras_ walked without caution, and yet only they knew the ways of this land, and only they could call it, as much as they might any place, home. Ages ago the land and its creatures had been warped by cataclysmic magic known now only as the Mage Wars. Slowly, ever slowly, the _Tayledras_ Healed the land — a task that their people had dedicated their lives to for centuries. As an Adept, Starwind lent his considerable power to that effort. As a Healer-Adept, that rarest of Mages, young Moondance did even more.

:_'Ware getting lost in thy thoughts, Master-ashke, or you'll trip on some stone in the snow — and then what will sister-Savil think?_: The younger Adept's voice was light as moonlight in his mind.

:_Hush!_: Starwind admonished, but without seriousness. :_There, I see the shape of _lasha'Kaladra_-Kellan through the snow..._:

:_And another. I wonder, what does wingsister-Savil bring us?_:

There were indeed two white horse-shapes that materialised beside the dark mouth of a cave in the mountainside. Starwind held out his hands in greeting to them as he drifted softly out of the snow. Kellan warmed his palm with her breath and then he was ducking through the entrance to find his wingsister — and her need.

:_Starwind old friend..._: Savil sat huddled by a small fire on the sandy floor of the cave. She looked strangely old and drawn, but the sense of her power and strength of spirit still burned with familiar brightness. She hunched forward, wrapped in her white cloak which she held around herself and two other figures. Two boys, merely younglings, and Starwind knew immediately they were the cause of her coming here. One head of faded gold leaned listlessly against her shoulder. The other, dark as night, rested in her lap, almost hidden from sight — the boy was curled in on himself and shuddered spasmodically in his sleep.

Starwind had a fleeting sense of memory relived, not the scene itself, but Savil —

— _Savil held the unconscious boy carefully as Starwind came to meet her. Kellan did not stop, but picked her way swiftly deeper into the Vale. Starwind's heart went out to the victim. The boy's left arm, tucked against Savil, was heavily bandaged from hand to elbow. A ragged gash stood out on his forehead and his plain peasant clothing was torn and stained with blood. His face under the brown hair was etched with such weary suffering that Starwind knew he would have helped this one, even were it not his wingsister who asked it._

_"Starwind, I need your help."_

:—_I need your help._:

:_And you have it._:

She looked up, the worry on her face lightening instantly as she saw him there. Starwind stepped forward and took her hands in greeting. "Welcome, heart-sister. Always welcome, and well come thou art."

"Starwind, _shaydra_—" and then her eyes glazed slightly and she swayed where she sat.

Starwind reached out to her, supporting her on more than one level as he let some of his own energy flow into her depleted frame.

"Savil, stubborn and willful as ever," he chided gently in concern, "what need is so great that you would drain yourself to a shadow to Gate here to us?"

"This need—" She placed one hand on the dark head in her lap, shifting her cloak so that Starwind could see for the first time how truly pale and wraithlike the boy was. She hugged the other a little closer.

The Adept reached out and lightly touched his hand to the boy's forehead, letting his senses take measure of the mind behind.

_PAIN._

He pulled back, instinctively, as one would who burned his finger on a hidden flame. "Goddess of my mother!" he breathed. "What have you brought me, Savil?"

Almost tentatively he reached for the other boy. No burn this time, but the pain was just as real — a darkness brooded here, threatening to draw down the very mind and soul that harboured it into the abyss.

Starwind shuddered inwardly as he sat back on his heels and regarded his heart-sister and her children. "Such darkness you bring me, Wingsister, and then you double the gift! No, no _evil_ —" he added in reassurance as she startled at his words, "but darkness — darkness of the soul, of two souls, and each a vessel for it's own shadow. Yet there is power here, such potential in this one— " he held his hand just above the face of the dark-haired boy — "It frightens me, Wingsister."

"I have no right to ask this." Savil looked profoundly weary as she spoke. "but I know enough to realise I can't carry this on my own — and nothing I or anyone else in Haven has done has really helped either of them. Besides, Vanyel could bring the capital down around our ears at any time." She shook her head, smiling ironically despite her weariness. "And this is what I bring you, _shaydra_. But I have no one else to ask. Can you help me?"

"You have the right," he answered, meeting her eyes with his most compelling look. "Sister to brother, it would be your right to ask. But do I not owe you for the greatest gift of all, that of my _shay'kreth'ashke_? And did not that gift come in the guise of a similar need?"

:_And did you not say you would bring any more such young men to me instead of Starwind, Wingsister? In case he has similar designs in future?_: Moondance's tone was light but gentle as he appeared in the mouth of the cave. Savil looked up in welcome and her eyes widened. Then she gave a tired laugh: "_Ke'chara_, I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose, but I hardly recognise you as the same child!"

Perhaps it was his thoughts of earlier, but as he glanced up briefly at his _ashke,_ Starwind found himself seeing him as if through her eyes. The change had already begun when Savil had left then, but still one could see clearly the brown hair and darker eyes of the non-_Tayledras_ boy. The face was still the same square shape, but the cheekbones were more pronounced and the lines smoother — and no one would now call him peasant-plain with the startling, ice-blue eyes and long silver hair of the _Tayledras_. He wore the silver cascade loose, as did Starwind, except for a single braid at each temple. His form had long since lost its adolescent gawkiness and the sleeveless tunic and grey breaches that, despite the weather, were all he wore under the long white cloak, showed the grace of his slender build.

Moondance cast Starwind a look that spoke as clearly as words: _I know where your thoughts are tending and I respond in kind, beloved. But for now —_

The younger Adept stepped forward and knelt on Savil's other side. "It is the magic," he said lightly. "It changes what comes into contact with it. It makes us what we are meant to be. Wind to thy wings, Wingsister, and what have you brought to us?"

"A problem," Starwind answered softly. "See—"

Moondance studied young Vanyel's face in silence for several breaths. "_Shay'a'chern,_" he breathed, "and yet he fights himself, like a snake devouring it's own tail." He reached out and touched the boy's forehead and did not pull away. "Pain. The mental hurt can be healed, the power he can learn to control — he _must _learn — and yet he resists what he is, what destiny would make of him. And Destiny has plans, the magic will make him what he is meant to be — the pawn is in play..."

He looked up, and his eyes touched on the other boy's face. "But this one — he fights his own form of darkness. What does one do when Destiny has cast one aside? One makes one's own path — but first he must accept that there is a path ahead, he must remake himself."

Starwind listened in silence and stored up the words in his mind. Moondance was not much gifted with Foresight, but his insight into other's minds was seldom wrong, and sometimes his words were inspired with more than that.

"And the Destiny?" he asked quietly when Moondance fell silent.

"No way of knowing." His _ashke_ looked up with a slightly rueful shake of the head and a more ordinary tone. "But they must both be healed first, if they are to face it. And taught, especially this one, and yours will be the teaching, I think, Master-_ashke_."

"And yours the Healing."

But Moondance shook his head. "Only if he is willing. He will have the final choice if his to Heal or not. As for this one—" He reached across and placed his hand gently on the golden head of the older boy. The small glow of the fire gleamed pale on the scar that snaked from the wrist down his bare arm, following the line of the vein. "I will do all in my power, Wingsister. You have my pledge."

Savil nodded and then swayed, her eyes glazing with dizziness again. Starwind caught her. "Enough," he said. "You need rest. Will you rest here? The Vale will be better, if you can make it there. It is not far."

She hesitated, but only briefly. "The Companions — they need better shelter, as much as any of us. They can carry us, even if you have to strap me in the saddle like the lads."

Starwind nodded, and looked to Moondance. The other _Tayledras_ stood and scooped the younger boy up in his arms. :_Wait with them._:

He soon returned for the other boy and Starwind supported Savil outside, snuffing the fire with a backward glance. With the two younglings on the stranger Companion's — Yfandes' — back, and Starwind supporting Savil in Kellan's saddle, Moondance lead them into the snowy wilderness, drifting like a stray moonbeam between the trees.

*** * ***


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Pain. It sliced like a red-hot knife through the gentle nothingness of the drugs. The Gate seared him with all consuming fire and he could only scream and writhe within the confines of his mind and wish incoherently to die. But the pain did not let him die. It held him in its grip, tracing its fiery way down all the already burned channels of his mind, all the pathways of his being, and it would not let go. Eternally.

It stopped. Still he whimpered at the aftermath it left, that disturbed the blank sleep the drugs normally brought. Pain still ached along his veins, the channels of mind and body alike, it seemed.

_He looked down and saw the thin lines of veins beneath the skin of his hand, and watched transfixed as a blueness spread along them with cold burning. All around, as he looked up in horror, the ice closed in. _

_A Gate — there had been a Gate from another place, a place of green and pine-scent and a beautiful face. It was gone now and he couldn't find it. He gasped in horror as he realised that even the memory was slipping through his rapidly freezing fingers. He was no longer certain what green was, or how pine smelt, and even the beloved face blurred as if seen through a growing thickness of river ice. _

_No — not that — don't take — don't take _him_ —_

_"_'Lendel!_" _

_"Your long-lost love? How touching." _

_He was in the canyon. On either side sheer cliffs reached up and he stood, a one man barricade, across the path of the dark army. _

_The mage who stepped forward through their ranks, past the other three blank-faced wizards, radiated an aura of dark power. He walked with self-assured ease, though in appearance he was young. And he was incredibly, perfectly beautiful. _

Is that what others see, when they look at me?_ Vanyel thought with detached wonder. For he could have been Vanyel's twin — except for the eyes, which were as dark a black as his hair and the ornate armour he wore. Black as a shadow, Vanyel's shadow. _

_"Leareth," he murmured, naming him. _

_"Darkness," the mage agreed. "And these are my servants. The Servants of Darkness — an amusing conceit, don't you think?" _

_"You will not pass." Not while I'm alive, he added to himself. Which would be how much longer? Yfandes, hurry — I'm alone again — always alone — _

_"You are quite alone," Leareth mused, as though echoing his thoughts. "How much longer can you hold out, do you think? And then you will die here, Vanyel. Alone." _

_Vanyel kept his face hard, guarded his mind, so that no hint of his own misgiving would leak out. _

_"But it does not have to be so," the dark mage continued in a low purr. " Only stretch out your hand to me, Vanyel, beautiful Vanyel. Take in my Darkness and you need never be alone. Together, what could we not accomplish? Nothing shall be beyond us. I could even —" he paced closer, one step, two. "I could even return your long-lost love to you." _

_Tylendel? Tylendel was with Yfandes, getting help — _

— _Tylendel was dead — _

_"Imagine, Tylendel, so long dead —" _

_"NO!" _

_He struck with raw power, all the force he could muster — _

:_Dreams, Vanyel, only dreams_.: A blue-green light, like gentle mist, carried the words, winding itself around him. The force of his strike dissipated, but unlike before there was no pain. :_Will it, and they vanish like mist — See, they are nothing but dreams, nothing but mist._:

The ice-scape faded, and he was floating, floating in the cool embrace of the mist. If he too could dissipate, could be mist and nothing more...

The mist faded, carrying him into darkness, but this darkness soothed the pain and he relaxed into it, wanting only to take it to him, even as he had repudiated the darkness that was Leareth.

And now a music threaded through this darkness, green-gold and soothing. It bathed him like light through green pine needles, though it I no way diminished the soothing darkness. It trickled through his being like the sweetest water through desert sand. It found all those raw and bleeding places in his mind and left healing in its wake, taking away a pain that had been there so long it seemed he couldn't remember _not_ hurting, and left him adrift in the warm, comforting flow of the music. Drifting, drifting, in its flow, he was content to do nothing, to be nothing.

But not to feel nothing. This was not the icefield. He floated in the comfort that was the green-gold light of the music, content to _feel_ it in every corner of his being —

— And found that something still hurt. Somewhere that he could not name, some corner of his soul ached with a pain that had nothing to do with burnt channels —

— _blood on white_ —

— as fast as he turned towards it, it was gone and the music was back to soothe his soul with its gentle windings.

And now another music joined it, blue-green like the voice that had dispelled his dream. It wound through and around the first music, entirely at one with it and yet indelibly separate, and the harmony drew him from quiet drifting. Now the green-gold retreated slightly to form a descant and the blue-green took up the lead, and this music would not let him slip back into the darkness but carried him with it. And now the voice spoke again, but if it was in fact speech, he was not certain, for it showed him the channels within himself and it plunged down through him into something far, far greater.

:_Centre — _here_, and _thus_ to Ground_: And he felt himself make the connection and knew that nothing could shake him now, not though all the forces of darkness threw their power at him. The music swirled and spiraled up around him and it seemed it tried indeed to shake him, but his new found balance held and he did not falter. Nor did he burn — the power coursing through him caused no pain.

:_Nor should it. This is your power, Vanyel — using it is a joy and a gift, but also a responsibility. Control, young Vanyel, always it will be under your control. You wish barriers to keep others out? Here, this is how it is done._: And the music spun walls around him, leading him though the weaving so that he could spin them himself. He did, building them thick as steel and then lightening them to gossamer silk, and he smiled in his mind, because it was so simple, and he knew he would not lose them again because they were founded in that deep place that held him in unshakable equilibrium. Thus he could keep others out of his mind. Thus he could stop himself from hearing. Thus he could be himself and not mad.

The blue-green music faded again and left the melody to the green-gold. It sang to him of rest, of sleep, and he followed it gladly. To sleep without dreams.

* * *


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Tylendel woke. Something felt — strange. The air, the bed under him felt somehow different and not at all right in a way he couldn't immediately define. Nor did he bother to try because on the heels of the strangeness came the realisation that he was alone: Van was not there.

His eyes flew open and he reached out, groping frantically with hand and mind.

"Easy, _ke'chara_." It was Savil's voice, Savil he focused on, sitting next to him. Sitting on cushions on the floor, for his bed was no more than a pallet, although it was comfortable and covered in heavy blankets, soft and luxurious as velvet.

"Where...?" He pushed himself upright and found as he did so that his body responded with more strength and less pain than he had felt in a long time. _Since Staven_— _oh gods! _—

He pushed the thoughts away. Savil was taking them to the Hawkbrothers, which meant —

"In k'Treva Vale," Savil responded, misunderstanding his question. "In an _ekele_, to be precise, which is _Tayledras_ for glorified tree-house."

Absently Tylendel noted that the single room of this 'tree-house' was made entirely of polished wood. Low chairs and table were bolted to the floor but there was little else in the way of furniture. Feathered masks on the wall were reminiscent of those that hung in Savil's suite back home. Through the window nothing could be seen except the green dapple of sunlight through leaves.

Vanyel was nowhere to be seen — the room was conspicuously bare in his absence — but another figure stood by the window and met Tylendel's searching gaze with piercing blue eyes. Despite all Savil's stories, this real live Hawkbrother seemed strange and fantastical. His blue eyes were set above high cheekbones in a triangular and incredibly beautiful face. Although it seemed impossible to guess his age, it could not be near a natural match for the white hair that flowed down his back, longer than a court lady's and worn free except for the twin braids at each temple. He wore tunic, breachers and soft boots of white and he stood slim and straight as a blade, one hand resting on the window frame. Yet Tylendel sensed, or perhaps Felt, the weariness that he did not show.

"Welcome," the _Tayledras_ said, speaking accented Valdamaran: "child of my sister, well come to k'Treva Vale."

"This is Starwind k'Treva, 'Lendel," Savil said, "he is Speaker for k'Treva Clan, and my soul-sibling."

Tylendel felt as if that blue gaze saw down to the depths of his soul, was considering and measuring him even as the man spoke. He could not deny a little awe at his first sight of the elusive _Tayledras_, but something else in him dug in his heels and he strengthened his mental barriers.

"Where's Van?" he demanded, stubbornly.

"With Moondance," the Hawkbrother replied. "We have worked long on his Healing and, although my part is over for now, Moondance still tends him."

Tylendel felt a stab of worry: was Van all right? _Why am I not with him?_

"Moondance has done his bit for you as well, 'Lendel," Savil said. "And I bet you feel better for the rest. Now what about a bit of food and a good hot bath?"

Savil had never been good at anything but the direct approach and it was clear that she was skirting the point here. Tylendel refused to be diverted. "I want to see Van," he persisted, pushing himself up off the bed and catching his balance with a hand against the wall. _Did the floor shift, just then?_

Savil sighed and shook her head. Starwind did not look away, his blue gaze still on Tylendel's face. "No. His Healing is not complete. You know what I speak is truth. You know he is well — you will Feel it. But you must let his Healing proceed." He moved over and pulled up a hatchway that was set into the floor. A fresh, cold gust of wind skirled up from the hole. "I will not forbid you to go to him. But you know the turmoil that is your own mind. Right now, you can only bring harm to your _ashke_ — right now, you are no good to anyone, least of all yourself. Think on that, before you seek him out." The blue eyes shifted and touched Savil, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Then, lithe as a cat, the _Tayledras_ slipped through the hole and was gone.

Tylendel stood and stared after him, fists clenched in anger. He wanted to lash out like he had done before in Savil's work room, but the emotion seemed to writhe inside of him, unable to find a way out. Outside there was a howl of rising wind and the _ekele_ trembled and swayed.

"Tylendel!" Savil's voice snapped him back into control and, partly to his own surprise, the wind outside died. _Why stop, why bother? What does it matter if the wind tears us down?_ He turned towards her. She was still sitting on the floor and she glared up at him with a fierce stubbornness of her own, though there was a slight greenish tinge to her face.

"Help me up, lad, I'm too old to be sitting on the floor," she demanded and he reached out and took her hand, helping her to her feet, although his anger had by no means vanished.

"Now Starwind may be too polite to say it, but I will: _I _forbid you to go anywhere near Vanyel till you've straightened yourself out. And we may not be at the Collegium, but by all the gods you will not slip past me a second time!"

"And before you argue," she continued, running over his half-formed protests like a cavalry charge, "I will tell you _why_ I am doing this. I trust Moondance and Starwind, I trust their judgement, and they feel that if you two don't heal on your own first, no healing will ever hold. They'll give you all the help they can, _ke'chara_ — we all will — but ultimately it's up to you. They also think they've got Vanyel on the right track where his powers are concerned, and we don't want an encounter with your still raw mind to set him blowing up half the Vale — or you doing it for him," and she glanced towards the window.

Tylendel turned away. He was not angry any longer. He was so full of a chaotic storm of emotions that he did not, in fact, know what he felt, except that he had some idea he might burst with the pressure. He pressed his forehead against the wall, lifted his arm up across his eyes, so that he would not have to look at his teacher.

"Leave me alone," he muttered.

Somewhat to his surprise, she did. He heard the thud of the trapdoor falling into place.

For a long time he did not move. Eventually his ragged breaths calmed as the storm of emotion inside him slowly drained away like water from a broken pot. He was empty. So empty he thought his thoughts would echo in his empty head. _What do I have left? What am I but a broken husk? I threw everything away — why didn't I die that night? _He slipped to the floor and pressed his face into his hands, but he couldn't block out what he saw behind his closed eyes. _Gala's blue eyes as she repudiated him — the words that were engraved across his soul in eternal condemnation —'you are not my Chosen'. _And then it was Vanyel's face, pale and desperate as he convulsed on the bed in agony. _No! As long as I could delude myself that he needed me, I could forget the rest — but I only cause suffering. _ _I threw everything away — I'm not a Herald anymore —_

_What am I? _

_Nothing. _

_Nothing. _To be nothing called to him, and yet he was bound to stay, tied by the bond to his beloved. _ Van-_ashke, _oh _ashke, _I love you, but why didn't I die that night? _

* * *

Savil descended the ladder slowly. This was partly just her usual caution and distrust of _Tayledras'_ perches, but it was also, this time, due to the burdens in her heart.

_I hope you're right, old friend_... she worried, thinking of Starwind and Moondance's advice. She herself had worried about the boys' dependance even before this nightmare started, although then it was mostly Vanyel that concerned her. She had little skill or patience in finding the right words to soothe a wounded heart, but still she feared greatly the risk she took, leaving 'Lendel alone in his present state.

"I do not like it either, Wingsister." Moondance's expressive eyes had been grey with concern as he spoke of it. "He needs care, but if he comes now to depend too strongly on another, he may lose all trust in his own judgement and abilities. It would be too easy for him to come to depend on you, not only as a trusted teacher, but as replacement for everything he has lost. Equally, he must not set that burden on his beloved — that way lies great heartache for both, and a scarred future."

Which all rang true and she certainly was no Healer to dispute it. But she knew her 'Lendel, and forbearance and a cool head were not generally his strong points. It took a great deal of effort to descend that ladder.

_I really hope you know what you're doing, Moondance..._

* * *


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Through the verdant veil of the bed hangings, Moondance k'Treva watched the youngling sleep. The notes of the crystal flute spiraled through his soul and he let his heart fly with the music. A gentle tune this, for one who needed sleep and peaceful waking. He was himself tired from the long, unbroken concentration of Healing but, carried by the music, he did not feel his fatigue, and in any case he was born up on the light wings of fulfillment. This mind no longer burned. This soul had been cleansed of a great burden of suffering and for now the poor child need only sleep, in the peace of the crystal flute. Which, for a Healer, was enough.

There was still much to be done, and much uncertainty resting on the sleeper, but that would wait till another time.

_Sleep now, young Vanyel. When it is time to wake, I will be here beside you. _

* * *

_"'Lendel." _

Vanyel came gently awake with that name on his lips, as he had done so often in the past. Not immediately feeling his lover's presence, he reached for him lazily _—_ _if I'm not really awake yet I don't have to get up_ — and half opened his eyes.

Green. He had the strange, dreamlike sensation that he was in a tree. No, it was a bed — but a bed like he had never seen before. Branches arched up and over, supporting a canopy of huge fern fronds and on all sides draped down a cascade of green — fabric, gossamer thin and in varying shades, cut into overlapping leaf-shapes. The bed itself was wide and soft and covered with blankets of dark moss-green, thick as heavy velvet.

He was quite alone. Except that there was a gentle music winding from somewhere beyond the curtain of greenery, and music did not usually produce itself. _Nor are beds usually made of trees — or trees of beds _—

The music reminded him of something — a dream — of gentle voices and soothing colours. He felt like someone in a tale, one of his mother's ballads perhaps, in which the hero wakes in a strange and magical land. _Then where's my True Love? And if this isn't a dream, where is 'Lendel?_

The music spiraled upwards one last time and came to an end. There was a brief pause, and then a figure parted the green hangings of the bed and looked down at him.

Vanyel stared in undisguised amazement. _I must be in a song_. He had never seen anyone like this young man. His hair was longer than most ladies' and silver as any oldster and yet he was plainly not old. Blue eyes met Vanyel's, cool and thoughtful, seeming to see down into his very soul. His clothes — sleeveless tunic and breeches — were as green as the bedding and in one hand he carried a flute, carved of what looked to be opaque crystal.

The apparition cocked his head just slightly to the side and his mouth curled in a gentle smile at Vanyel's stare and it was then Van realised he couldn't hear the strange young man's thoughts. He could feel presence, but there was no barrage of unwanted emotion, no din of other people's mind's. He blinked in surprise, and remembered again the dream —

"Good morning." Perhaps seeing that Van showed no signs of doing anything other than stare, the young man spoke first. He spoke Valdamaran with a strange accent and his voice was pleasant — musical.

"W-what is this place?" Vanyel stammered — _Oh terribly clever!_ "Who are you?"

"Ah," the young man's smile blossomed, and the blue of his thoughtful eyes seemed to lighten, "it is well. Better than I might have feared — it could easily have been 'who am _I?_' you asked me, young Vanyel. So. What is this place? This is the Vale of k'Treva in the Pelagir Hills, and before you ask, Wingsister Savil brought you to us. We are her longtime friends and she sought our aid in your healing. I am called Moondance and I am _Tayledras_, what you would call Hawkbrother. What is more, I am a Healer. As for a more specific answer to 'this place': this is my bedroom and that is my bed you are lying in." A teasing twinkle came into his eyes. "Starwind says it is a foolish piece of conceit, but _I_ think that this is only because he did not think of it first."

Vanyel blinked in bewilderment, his mind struggling to absorb the rush of information.

"My apologies, young Vanyel, I go too fast," Moondance said. "Simple things first then: do you wish for food or drink? A bath?"

But Van's mind seemed to have finally caught up with the situation and it was something else entirely that jumped to the fore.

"Where's 'Lendel?" And then he blushed, to think what he had just revealed in that blurted demand. He looked away, not wanting to see the disgust or anger that was sure to cloud those clear blue eyes.

"Of course." Moondance's voice was graver, but showed no sign of either anger or disgust. Vanyel glanced up, cautiously as if still half-expecting some blow.

"He too required healing but of a different kind, and he woke some time before you. Therefore he has been made welcome in an untenanted _ekele_."

"Then he's here — in this Vale, too?"

"Indeed."

"'Lendel needed healing? Is he all right?" Van uncoiled slightly despite himself and the words came flooding from him — _Why isn't he _here_? —_ _Of course he isn't all right — Gala — wait a moment, Yfandes _—I _have a Companion _—

:_Chosen._:

He had reached out with his mind without even thinking and found the presence, the warm, definite and above all, loving presence of the Companion, _his_ Companion.

:_I am here, Chosen. Not far away._:

Her voice did not hurt. Again he was aware that he could still feel those places in his mind that had burned, but they no longer hurt him: he had grown so accustomed to the pain. Slowly he felt out, stretching out his senses like he might stretch his fingers after a difficult piece of music — carefully, testing.

He sensed presences — not thoughts: his new barriers shielded him and he no longer had any unbalancing of what was him and what was other. He could Feel the veiled power of the Hawkbrother beside the bed, and the distinctive aura of Yfandes and another Companion _—_ _Kellan — Savil is here somewhere_ — _Yes, that must be her, and another _— As he carefully thinned his mental barriers, he caught the 'feel' of her mind and sensed others, many others. Without thought, without really knowing how, he picked out one that 'felt' right and that drew his mind as inexorably as gravity —

:_'Lendel?_:

He heard no reply. He sensed shields hard as ice here and could touch nothing beyond. An ache grew in him at being shut out, excluded, and yet it was more than that — as if a darkness from beyond himself was drawing him in —

"Vanyel."

The voice pulled him abruptly back to the green bed. He blinked at the young man who was now sitting opposite him, leaning forward slightly, one hand resting across his knee, the other still holding the crystal flute.

"What —?"

"Vanyel, listen to me—" Moondance's eyes were grave and concerned — "you are Healed but there is still much for you to learn before your power will be fully under your control. Likewise, I have Healed the body of your _shay'kreth'ashke_, but there is still a darkness in his spirit."

One word jumped out at Van and in his surprise he hardly heard the rest. "_Ashke_?"

"Indeed. _Shay'kreth'ashke_ means something like 'beloved of the soul' — what you would term 'lifebonded'."

Van just stared, again lost for words. _Lifebond — 'Lendel and I _— It was a revelation, and yet at the same time it meant nothing, was only a confirmation of what they had already known. Van knew next to nothing about such bonds except that they were unbreakable.

_"I love you because you're Vanyel, and we belong together —" _

_"Van, I won't hurt you. Not for any reason."_

A sense of awe washed over him that everything Tylendel had said to him was after all nothing but truth. And suddenly he longed for nothing but his lover's arms, to tell him that, whatever else, they were together.

"Please," he said, quietly meeting the other's gaze, "can I see him?"

Moondance paused for a moment and the silence enveloped the strange bedchamber. "I will tell you a thing," he said eventually. "Because I would not wish you to be hurt. There is a darkness in the mind of your _shay'kreth'ashke_ — not evil — but a darkness that is born of loss and guilt and self-doubt. I do not doubt that if you were to go to him now, you could ease this hurt, but it would not go away. Next time it surfaced he would look to you again to dispel the darkness, and the next time, and the next, but because it never truly went away it would poison the love between you and darkness would creep into both your souls. Tylendel must overcome this _himself_ and for that reason, no, you may not see him now."

Vanyel opened his mouth to object, but suddenly Moondance's head came up as if listening. He looked off into the distance with unfocused eyes andVanyel thought he sensed some exchange just out of his hearing. Then the young man turned back to Vanyel with an air of agitation.

"Forgive me, I must leave you. There is trouble and I must deal with it." He stood. "But I will not leave you untended at least. Do you wish for food, or to bathe first?"

Van, his still muddled thoughts abruptly sent off in another direction by this change, was suddenly aware that he was not only hungry but desperate to be clean. _Peacock,_ he could almost hear Tylendel teasing him. "Bath," he said firmly just as his stomach gave the opposite answer.

Moondance smiled. "Then we shall remedy both at the same time. Come." He held out a hand to help Vanyel from the bed and Van took it tentatively, only to draw back quickly as he realised another thing about himself — under the blankets he was completely naked.

Moondance looked amused. "So modest? Who do you think undressed you and tended you these past days? 'Twas not the man in the wind, I think."

But he was already reaching up and detaching something from among the green hangings, that he tossed down onto the blankets. The robe was, thankfully, more substantial than the gossamer bed-hangings and Moondance carefully turned his back so that Vanyel could scramble from the bed and pull the soft material round himself.

The movement proved a little too precipitous and the room became suddenly uncertain around him while a soft humming filled his ears. But the _Tayledras_ was at his side immediately and with a cool touch on his brow, dispelled the dizziness.

"Come now," he said encouragingly, holding out his hands and stepping back, inviting Vanyel to come to him. "You must learn to walk again, young Vanyel. One step — yes. Keep your eyes on me — one step at a time."

Thus they crossed the strange room, although Van could not spare the attention from the absolute concentration necessary for walking to look around him. The _Tayledras_ did not hold him but stayed steadily one step ahead, his clear blue eyes never shifting. He showed none of his earlier agitation, and did not hurry Van at all, although the journey seemed to take years to accomplish. Which was a good thing, because Van thought that if he had tried to go any faster he would probably have fallen flat on his nose.

Walking required all his attention and he was relieved at the end, and after crossing some sort of threshold without incident, to sink down onto the smooth stone ledge that Moondance guided him to.

"How long?" he asked, too tired to even try and work it out in his head. "How long have I been here?"

"A week you have been with us," Moondance answered him, "but for two more before that you have lain abed and drugged. It will take a while for your body to relearn such things as walking, and proper food."

"Three weeks!" Van found that he hadn't even considered time in a long while, and his memories of the past weeks were vague.

But the _Tayledras_ was again in a hurry and did not answer his surprise. "Look about you — here is the bath." Vanyel looked up and saw that the ledge rimmed a raised pool full of steaming hot water. While deep enough for bathing it was not very wide. Raised slightly above it, another pool spilled water over a lip into the first and this one was both larger and deeper. Both pools were smooth but seemed natural features with rock sides and sandy bottoms. There was a faintly metallic tang in the air.

"See — this the pool for washing," Moondance continued his instruction. "Here is soap. _This_ is the pool for resting when you are finished. Food will come soon, and clothing for when you are done. Starwind and your aunt will be here to see you shortly. Savil has been anxious to see you up and about again."

He hesitated, looking away. When he spoke again his words were somewhat hesitant. "There is a thing I wish to say to you. A thing for you to think upon. In Healing you I have shared your thoughts, I know your mind in a way none other can, except perhaps your _shay'kreth'ashke_. It is something that I have experienced for myself — that one knows your deepest troubles without you having to voice them. It can be both a discomfort and a relief.

"Despite your love — which I do not think any force could shake — there is still in you a fear and a shame for what you are. You have heard too much from small-minded and constricted men, so I would speak to you as one who is also _shay'a'chern,_ who loves and has learned that there should be nothing but joy in such a bond."

Now he turned back, looking straight into Van's eyes with the intensity of a hawk.

"This I have learned. There can be no shame in loving. Where there is love, the form matters not. Where there is love, the gods are pleased."

And, bending, he kissed Vanyel full on the mouth.

"You are most welcome, young Vanyel."

Then he was gone in a swift movement of silver and green.

Vanyel, sitting in wide eyed confusion, thought he sensed a light touch of surprised indignation, which was answered by the gentle bubbling of green-gold laughter.

* * *

**AN **Acknowledgement: I have used something directly from _Magic's Pawn_ (1991:274-5) because I simply couldn't better it. Obviously, the two lines that Van remembers Tylendel saying are from the book as well. Thank you Ms Lackey (please don't sue me!).


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Finally! Ladies and Gentlemen it is here — the next Chapter! Two chapters in fact, because it kept getting longer but when I cut it, the first section was disappointingly short. So you get both at once! Hope that makes up for the long wait. At least a little.....please? If it's not quite up to standard, I really apologise and please do complain. This has gone on for so long and with such long gaps that it becomes hard to for me to judge.

That said, I still hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 14**

The pool was delightfully, luxuriously hot. Food had appeared as if from nowhere as well as a folded pile of clothing on one of the stone benches by the wall. Van lay in the steaming water and let his mind drift along with his body. It was some time before he could even muster the energy to wash himself, which he did eventually with indulgent lethargy. After, he moved to the 'pool for resting' — the ledge that separated the different levels was not high but proved a difficult obstacle in his weakened state. This pool was wider than the first and some artifice, improving on the natural form, had shaped smooth ledges along the sides for sitting and relaxing in the hot water. Vanyel did just that, resting his head back against the rim of the pool and letting the steaming bath relax his body whether he willed it or no. The metallic taste of the water that welled up from the centre of the sandy bottom of this pool mingled with the verdant scent of the plant life that was hung or grew around the rocky walls of the chamber. Light filtered down from a skylight, for the room had no windows, and only the one door back into the bedroom. It was very peaceful.

It was so much easier to think of nothing. His body and mind were free from pain in a way that left him almost light headed with the difference. And yet there was still that something — like an deep seated wound in a place he could not reach, but at the same time coming from a source outside of him. It was, he thought, because as much as he might want not to think, just to drift mind and body, Tylendel still hurt. He knew and he could not truly rest.

He considered the new barriers around his mind that he had acquired. Experimenting, he strengthened them as far as he could. The hurt was still there _—_ _more a hole, a black emptiness that burns at the edges_. Besides, what he wanted was _not_ to shut Tylendel out, but to go to him, to find out whatever this darkness was that Moondance talked about, and how to destroy it.

_I know what Moondance said, but how can I not help him? I'd do anything for him — fight all the shadows in the world for all my life and never regret it. He's done so much for me — he's the _only_ one who _ever_ really understood me — and if I can't save him now — _

The thought was an almost physical pain in his chest. _I'm as much to blame as anyone for what happened. I should have gone to Savil. _

Savil. Perhaps she would speak to these Hawkbrothers for him. After all they were her friends and she must be worried about 'Lendel too. Hawkbrothers! His mind flitted off along another track. _Tayledras_ — he remembered her stories, and he had thought that was all they were. _And now here I am, right in the middle of one of those stories! No one would believe me — I'm not even sure _I_ believe all this. _

His eyes wandered round the strange chamber again. Nature and artifice blended so completely it was hard to tell what were natural features enhanced by handicrafts and what were the works of man made to resemble nature. _It's so different to anything I could have imagined_. _I even feel different. _

It was a strange sensation. Everything had changed, and changed over again. Starting with that night he had opened himself to Tylendel — _I'd give anything to go back there, to how things were _— and then Sovvan night, and now he woke and found himself in this place. _And I have Gifts and I don't even want to be a Herald, that was always 'Lendel — _

:_Do you wish me gone, Chosen?_:

:_'Fandes — no!_: He could not deny her love for him, it was warm and sure through the bond they now shared, but it was a different love, a different need —

— _In a lot of ways she's more than I am _—

Tylendel's own words. It was a part of his lover he had never fully understood, Tylendel's dedication to being a Herald, and now he was the one with Gifts and it might be too late to even try and understand.

:_'Fandes, it's just that — how am I supposed to choose? Between you and Gala?_:

_You and 'Lendel? _

:_It is not for you to choose, beloved. That choice has already been made. But _I_ Chose you._:

It was too much. It raised questions of gods and fate that he was not willing to face. He closed his barriers against Yfandes and tried to sink again into the tranquility of hot water and solitude.

_'Lendel._

His mind swung back like a compass needle seeking North and he reached out with his thoughts, instinctively knowing the right direction. Nothing but a barrier hard as ice, and a wound inside him that would not heal.

_Why won't you let me in, 'Lendel? I need you. Always. _

* * *


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Savil's heart lifted as she and Starwind entered the bathing room to see Vanyel sitting on one of the stone benches. His face was still white and he leaned his head back against the rocky wall as if the simple act of dressing after his bath had exhausted him, but at least he was out of bed, and conscious, and when he looked up at their entrance his eyes were clear and alert. It went a great ways to easing the weight that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her heart.

The boy greeted her with an almost smile. "Aunt Savil." Then he hesitated, the smile faded. "Are you — are you well?"

She grimaced and waved him down when he started to rise, taking a seat on the bench next to him as Starwind did the same.

"That bad, is it?" she asked, dryly, then took pity on him as he stuttered, trying not to cause offence. "I've got a mirror, lad: I look like Hell. Don't bounce back from strain like I used to, that's all. But seeing you up is the best medicine I've had in weeks, so don't look so guilty."

Which he was looking, and not the sort of haunted self-incrimination she had seen in his eyes before but an expression bred of genuine concern. _Alert _and_ worrying about others — my goodness, is this the same boy?_

She let the subject lie though, and introduced him to Starwind. As Speaker for k'Treva, his was the highest 'authority' in the Vale, especially when dealing with outsiders. He would also be Vanyel's teacher, if they could just persuade the boy to learn. She didn't like to think what it would mean if they couldn't.

"My lord —" Vanyel began hesitantly, after Starwind had, as usual, corrected her explanation of his position and the definition of a _Tayledras_ Clan to his satisfaction.

"Nay, there are no lords here," her wingbrother chided, although kindly. "I speak for k'Treva, but I hold no lordship. Each _Tayledras_ rises or falls on one's own."

Vanyel nodded, then hesitated as if not sure whether to speak, before blurting out: "What did you do — to me? I feel different, but I'm not sure how. I can block people out of my head but I don't know how I do it."

_So he recognises who was behind the 'doing'. _Well, there was no reason he wouldn't recognise Starwind's aura, but it showed he had his wits about him.

"You have been Healed, and taught a little," the Adept answered. "Moondance Healed your burned channels — those conduits through which magical energy flows within you. With a Mage Gift so powerful, and awakened late and by force, you were wounded in spirit as surely as one can be wounded physically. I have taught you a little while you were in Healing trance — enough to bring you balance, but not nearly as much as you must learn. So you are able to ground and centre and to shield, and there should be no more unbalancing of what is you and what is other, nor shaking of the ground from nightmare.

"But there is more to learn, young Vanyel. Your aunt brought you here because she believed that none of your own people had the skills to heal what you had suffered. And rightly so. It is the expertise of the _Tayledras_ — indeed it is our duty — to heal magical affliction. It is also our duty to keep magic that is warped or wild under control. You have great power and great potential, Vanyel, and I will gladly teach you if you are willing to learn. But that is _all_ I can do — yours must be the will behind it. If you do not learn to control it, it will control you, and if that happens you become a hazard — to yourself, to those around you, to the whole landscape. Magic will take it's own path if you do not direct it through safe channels, and it will use you if you do not use it. If that happens, you will be contained, hopefully before you do irreparable damage."

:_Shayanna, you are scaring the boy!_: Savil admonished him. Vanyel's eyes had been growing increasingly wider during the later part of Starwind's lecture and she decided that her wingsib had made his point.

:_As it should be. Magic is a Gift to be treated with utmost respect._: Starwind replied with equanimity, but his expression lightened as he looked at Vanyel.

"But we shall speak no further on these things for now. We are pleased to have you, Moondance and I. For now, rest and gather your strength. Let me show you the Vale that is our home, and yours for as long as necessary."

He stood and Savil prepared to push herself to her feet — _have I turned into an old woman when I wasn't looking, dammit?_ — but Vanyel had another question, it seemed.

"What about 'Lendel? I know he's had some training— " He glanced towards Savil. "Is he also a hazard that needs to be contained?"

"That remains to be seen," Starwind answered, calmly. "For now he poses a danger only to himself, but we cannot discount the potential of his Mage power. As I have said, if he is not willing to use or at least learn to better control it himself, he may yet have to be contained."

:_Pray it does not come to that, sister,_: he sent to her privately. :_This pair has great potential, if they will only learn to use it!_:

:_I know you'll do everything you can. If only I had brought 'Lendel to you sooner!_: she sent in return, but they both knew she had her doubts. Doubts she didn't want to examine too closely. _'Lendel, ke'chara, this time get it _right.:

"May I see him?" Vanyel's face had taken on something of the controlled mask he had worn when he first came to Haven, but his eyes still betrayed his emotion and the mask seemed to slip as if it didn't quite fit anymore.

:_Careful, old friend! I think you're going to have a harder time convincing this one._:

:_And without damaging him,_: Starwind answered. :_Even now his sense of self trembles like the last leaf in autumn._:

"Perhaps, but not yet," he answered aloud, holding Van's eyes with his ice-blue ones. "Moondance has the healing of him, so you will have to wait till he returns to put your question again. But if there is any chance Tylendel can come through this time of darkness himself, that is the chance we shall take. Sometimes, young Vanyel," and his voice and look softened, "it is necessary to take a step back from the ones we love, so that they may become whole again."

Vanyel stared back and there were no masks now, only a pleading in his eyes and a need so naked it was almost painful to see. "He needs me. 'Lendel — he's hurting — I can _feel _it. He saved me from — from dying inside: I didn't know how, without him, and I don't think — he can't do this alone. He shouldn't."

"He must." Starwind's voice was low but intense. "Or he will never be whole again. Listen to my words, Vanyel, and believe what I say. You will not seek out Tylendel, unless Moondance, Savil or myself gives you permission. If this stricture must be enforced, it will."

Van met his eyes defiantly for a moment before lowering his head. His shoulders slumped slightly and he seemed to draw in on himself. Savil reached out and rubbed his back in a gesture of sympathy, but he started and pulled away from her touch, standing up.

By the time he turned towards her, something in his face, behind the silver of his eyes had closed. _We missed something, there_. She wasn't sure what but she felt a momentary chill. She hoped it wouldn't prove disastrous for all of them in the future.

She pushed aside the hand her nephew offered her and got to her feet. "Not that ancient yet, boy," she growled. "And you look like you could use a hand yourself."

But despite her words, Vanyel was steady enough on his feet as the three of them made their way back through the green-hung bedroom and out into the open, central hall through whose skylight thrust the trunk of a great tree. It stood many stories high and the wide bole was as large around as a peasant's cottage. The lowest branches only began beyond the skylight and the top was impossible to see, only a spreading roof of thick foliage. Around this massive central pillar a staircase — steep enough to be a ladder — spiraled up. Vanyel gazed up at the tree in amazement and kept tight hold of the railing as they ascended the ladder. So did Savil, but her death grip on the thin rail had less to do with weakness and more with her aversion to the _Tayledras_ cursed love of hights.

:_See what I mean about the dependence?_: she mindspoke Starwind as they climbed. :_Separate them and he just wilts._:

:_All the more reason why it is important to follow this course,_: he replied gravely. :_It is painful, but they must learn to stand on their own or they will only pull each other down._:

:_Still — I'm worried about 'Lendel, shayanna_.:

:_I too._: He sighed softly and half glanced her way. :_I will speak to Moondance when he returns, but I fear it may be necessary to have your nephew's help after all, if we are to save your soul-son, mind and body. I cannot help but wish he were older, that one of them at least was whole and unharmed._:

:_But life never pulls her punches,_: Savil answered with the tart apple flavour of a wry smile. :_Why should she start now?_:

:_Aye, wingsister. Aye to that._:

She could feel that he was troubled, not just weary, and while she would not have expected him to hide his concerns from her, it was hardly reassuring when the usually confident Adept expressed doubts that the course they were following was the right one. And 'Lendel — 'Lendel, who had at least been wandering the Vale at first, albeit with the look of a lost ghost, now stayed silent and brooding in the _ekele_, and no damned reason for the change!

They had reached the covered balcony above the hight of the lower dwellings and below the _ekeles_. The Vale lay spread out, green and lush, below them. It occupied a steep sided canyon that steamed with natural hot springs. Thanks to the art of the _Tayledras_, although all around was winter, here in this refuge it remained as warm and green as a southern jungle. As she looked out over Starwind's little kingdom, Savil felt the same sense of comfort as always. This place would always be one of richness, reassurance and learning for her, and the comfort of the deepest friendship she had ever formed. No matter that she had spent such a short time here in her life — some friendships never faded, and they took up where they had left off as if there had not been many years between.

Starwind was explaining to Van about the Vale — the mage-barrier around the valley that kept the winter out, the dwelling places both below and above — the latter of which he was not to visit without invitation — and the _hertasi_, the lizard folk that served the _Tayledras_.

"They are shy, so I pray you, if you meet one strive not to frighten it. But it is unlikely that you will. They are seldom seen, even by us, and I suspect only Moondance is a friend to them all. This Vale provides them with protection and peace and in return they serve us.

"As for other _Tayledras_, none but Moondance and myself speak your language, so I can only say be polite and do not pay much mind if they do not seek your company. We are wary of strangers as a rule and it is likely you will not even see others of k'Treva in your time here. Only Moondance and myself dwell here-below, for Moondance is still un-_Tayledras _enough to be unwilling to spend all his time in the treetops."

Vanyel had stayed silent all this while. Savil watched him look out over the valley and then, as Starwind spoke of dwellings here-above and here-below, his gaze moved to search the greenery above their heads. Even from here the _ekeles_ could not be seen, but she had no doubt she knew what he was looking for. Silver eyes fixed on a point far above and his face took on a far away look as he stood, still clutching the railing. He looked very pale in the sunlight and still, like a statue of bereavement. Savil thought of the waves of depression, fear and loss that had crippled students at the Collegia, but this time there was no leakage. Van's new shields were holding. Oddly enough it reminded her disturbingly of before — before Tylendel, when her nephew had been so maddeningly unreachable.

:_We must begin his schooling, and soon,_: Starwind commented quietly on a tendril of mindspeech. :_He needs other responsibilities to occupy his mind._:

Vanyel dropped his gaze and looked away, shaking his head a little as if to clear it.

"What do you want with me?" he asked in a hollow voice, gaze fixed now on his white-knuckled hands.

"To learn," replied Starwind calmly. "Uncontrolled magic is a danger. If you do not learn to keep it under your conscious control, it will always remain unpredictable and a danger to everything around you. As _Tayledras_ and a Mage, it is my duty to teach you. It is also for the sake of my sister, that I am willing to do so. But it is for your own sake also, young Vanyel, that I hope you will learn well what I have to teach. You have suffered already from the consequences of badly controlled magic unleashed — I truly do not want you to suffer more."

Whether he heard all that or not was hard to tell, but either way, Vanyel nodded.

"Tomorrow then," Starwind said, "tomorrow we begin your schooling."

* * *


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The Vale was a wilderness to lose time in. Although not in fact very big, the many winding paths and the thick foliage that screened them made it seem like a endless labyrinth. Which suited Tylendel fine. With a soul in tatters and yet unable to find release in death, existence was — boring. How mundane. How ridiculously _banal_ considering all that had happened, everything he had done. Drowning in remorse, it seemed, and torturing oneself with guilt and self-loathing could only be kept up for so long, when there was no end in sight. And he'd never been good at sitting still.

Now he moved in an almost dreamlike state in which he avoided thinking at all. It was simply too painful and as long as he kept walking, in this green, unending labyrinth and everyone left him alone, he could avoid both the boredom and the pain.

He met no one except the _Tayledras_ Starwind, and Savil. Of his teacher he was more afraid than any other — afraid to see the care in her eyes, the lines on her face. She had pushed him away once already — it threatened his new-found calm too much to risk that rejection a second time, or to see the hurt he had caused her. So he avoided looking, and shut himself off in the wandering spaces of his own mind, answering her through a dark fog that cloaked him in protective numbness. Once Kellan was with Savil but he had no courage to meet the Companion's blue gaze and the condemnation there.

Then one day, rounding a bend in one of the winding paths, he came face to face with another Companion.

— _Gala!_ —

— _No. Never again. _

As if hit by a gale force blast, his safe fog was shredded and gone. Yfandes stood, ears forward, head up, looking at him. She nickered softly and reached out —

He fled. Backed up a few paces and then turned and fled, headlong and out of his wits —

_Darkness. Lightning. Lightning in his head. And run — run — run away from everything — blood and dead blue eyes and ruin — and if he only ran fast enough and far enough maybe he'd run off the edge of the world — _

He hadn't. He didn't now. He came to his senses leaning against the frame of the high window over a drop of endless green. It called to him.

But not even that was allowed. He collapsed against the wall, wracked by dry sobs.

_Gods! — let me _go. _ I can't live like this — I can't — I can't _— _I've never been so alone — _

So what if Vanyel died for it? He'd already murdered one he loved, and this time he wouldn't have to live with the pain of it. He'd be _dead_, what would he care —

— _I won't _ever _hurt you._

He had promised. And the thought of hurting his _ashke_ was like another knife in the already tortured mess of his heart.

He sobbed himself to utter, unthinking exhaustion, caught in a vice that would not let him move either way.

* * *

The Vale was a wilderness to lose time in. With most of the afternoon to himself, Van wandered aimlessly along the green paths. It had looked much smaller from above. Down here, walking the winding paths, it was possible to lose oneself without noticing. Pools and springs of steaming water bubbled up from the ground, and everything was cloaked in incredible greenery that hid one path from another, though they might pass a mere whisper from each other. Some paths opened into small meadows of grass, just barely reached by the sun as it filtered down between the high walls of the canyon and through the thick vegetation. A riot of birds and insects called invisibly from all sides, and yet it was very quiet.

No one. The loneliness was surprisingly soothing. Yfandes was out there somewhere, perhaps sensing that her presence was not immediately required, perhaps avoiding him since he had blocked her out earlier. She was still a paradox, a conundrum he had not the slightest idea how to deal with. He had never asked for any of this and yet the gods had given him Heraldic Gifts and a Companion. And with the other hand had taken from Tylendel. Was that supposed to be some sort of divine symmetry? Was it fate? _Yet if I had just gone to Savil none of this would have happened_ — And in the back of his treacherous mind, despite everything, the thought still festered: _is it a punishment — because of what I am?_

The sun set suddenly in this sharp valley and drained the colours from the forest. The last rays turned the higher branches to brilliant gold and emerald as Van looked up, wondering suddenly if he could even find his way back to the ground-level living quarters.

He managed it eventually, although the Vale was dark all around him by then. The chorus of bird and insect life had changed its tone and small phantom-lights sparked between the trees. The rock-hewn ground-dwellings were softly lit and the great tree seemed hung high up with firefly-lights, which must in fact be the windows of the other _Tayledras_ dwellings.

Again food and clothing seemed to appear by magic. The bathing pool was as luxuriously hot as ever and the tree-bed was soft and welcoming. If he had other quarters now, no one had told him. For the first time in he didn't know how long, Van went to sleep bathed, comfortable and not in pain. The wide bed seemed very empty.

* * *

He woke, and the despair that filled him at the dark, empty bed twisted his soul. Somehow it seemed all the worse because he had been dreaming that 'Lendel wasn't dead but was only separated from him, and the realisation as he woke hit with the force of a fresh grief. Gone. He was alone, he was always alone, he would die alone if the dreams had any truth in them.

_Dreams — dreams — _

_Blue-green voice and the haunting memory of music — _

_Will it and they vanish —_

Was that all this was — another nightmare? Now that the thought was there it grew in certainty. If that was so then he should be able to wake. He _pulled_ at himself, willed his open eyes to _open —_

And woke, breathing hard, in the dark and empty bed. Van lay quiet as his breath slowed and listened to the silence around him. No shaking, no crashes or screams. Perhaps Starwind was right and he wouldn't shake the earth with his nightmares any more. He just wished he could avoid the nightmares themselves. He knew only one remedy that worked but that wasn't allowed to him any more. In the dark of the night it hardly seemed surprising. It had always been too good to be true — now the memory of that time seemed warm but somehow distant. _Like a dream — I knew it was more than I ever deserved — to be that happy. _

If he could only go back to that dream he wouldn't want to wake up, but the world wasn't letting him pretend anymore. No drugs, no losing himself. No one to lean on when he faltered.

_They want me to control this on my own, but how am I supposed to do that when no one will tell me how? Everyone _wants_ something from me — no one ever asks what I want. _

_No one except 'Lendel. _

Perhaps if he hadn't been so tired he would have violated the order then and there, but between one breath and the next he was asleep again and the next time he woke it was to morning sunlight filtering green through the skylight.

* * *

By the time Van fell into bed the following evening, he was too exhausted to do anything more than fall straight to sleep. He had not spoken to Moondance that day, and he had no energy now to seek him out. He had not spoken to _anyone_ except Starwind, and he had got little enough in return. The Adept had become in his mind something other than human, more like an implacable force of nature than a living person.

The room with no doors.

Savil had come to fetch him early to begin his schooling and had taken him, via several unfamiliar rooms in the ground-level dwellings, to Starwind's workroom.

They had passed _something_ — a pattern on the floor, no more — and suddenly they were in this circular room, that held nothing — no furniture, no decoration, no doors or windows — only rock walls, bare floor, and the enigmatic Starwind.

"Be careful, _shaydra_," was all his aunt said, with cautionary look at the Adept — which did nothing to raise Van's spirits — and then she was gone, vanishing back into thin air. And then his lessons began.

Shields, it seemed, were not only for keeping one's thoughts to oneself. They could be a mental and physical defence, and they could be used in intricate and seemingly endless exercises to test his control.

:_You fail. Again, youngling._: Starwind's face never changed expression, his voice was ever cool and smooth. He would slip into Vanyel's mind and show him what he was meant to do and how, and then wait while Van fumbled his way through the exercise, trying to replicate what he now _knew_, but that knowledge didn't seem to translate into the ability to do it. And as soon as he mastered one lesson, another followed without pause. He had no idea how long they had been sitting across from each other in this strange room and he was ready to scream with frustration.

"_Why_? What is the _point_ of this?"

Silence.

:_Mindspeech, Chosen,_: Yfandes reminded him gently, but firmly. Mindspeech, apparently, could also be used as a test and was a part of the lesson. It was not as easy as he had imagined. It required a certain amount of will and control and he still wasn't entirely sure how he did it.

He took a deep breath, shaped his thoughts carefully . :_What is the point of this? What am I supposed to do?_:

:_Control,_: came the answer. :_And as long as all your thought centers around _you,_ you will continue to fail. Until you match your shield perfectly with mine, mine will remain, and we will remain in this room._: That was a longer speech than Van had got out of the _Tayledras_ in a long while and it encouraged him slightly.

:_But I don't understand. How does this help?_:

:_That is why I am the teacher and you the pupil,_: Starwind returned with an amused quirk of a smile. :_Again, young Vanyel_:

That was the most he got out of the Adept all day. By the time they did leave the strange work-room — Van had finally matched shields to Starwind's satisfaction — the sky was darkening outside and he was as tired as he had ever been after a full session with Jervis. More so, as his mind felt as if it had also been subjected to the armsmaster's pummeling.

Still, tired as he was, his thoughts swung in one sure direction as he fell into bed. It had been over a day now. Over a day without Tylendel. He thought tiredly of his fear from before, that his father would take him away, would separate them — they had spent every moment possible in each other's company, because they never knew how long they had. In the end, it had not been long.

Using all the training that had been drilled into him that day, he aimed a focused point of thought at his beloved.

:_'Lendel?_:

Nothing.

Aching in mind and heart, he slept.

* * *


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Outside the world was a dark network of branches, the Vale below lost in night. The _ekele_ was high enough that up here a hint of winter touched the air. Tylendel gripped the window frame on either side as he lent out. The gusting wind teased through his unkempt curls and set the branches whispering against each other. The world stretched open and empty below him. It called with a surreal intensity.

_Come — come. No thought — no memory. No pain._

"Gala," he whispered, the longing a shard of glass in his voice. And then, softer: "Van."

"The emptiness knows your name." Tylendel started and swung round. Moondance had emerged, silent as the night, from the hatchway. He bent and closed it behind him, before crossing the floor with smooth grace as it swayed almost imperceptibly in the wind. The young _Tayledras_ came to stand companionably by the window, resting his hands on the sill.

"It calls to you doesn't it?" he said, looking out into the dark. "It knew my name when I first came here, and I would have answered it, were it not for the quick action of my _shay'kreth'ashke_. Of course, I did not know him for that at the time — and I remember I bit him badly for his trouble."

Tylendel looked at him in surprise — was the _Tayledras_ even talking about the same thing? Then the anger rose in him. It was a familiar anger — it had simmered in him for many days after Staven's murder, and blazed hot when he finally confronted the Leshara. It was something of a surprise though, now, to feel anything so strong above the pain.

"You don't — you don't understand," he gasped out, turning away.

"Perhaps I don't," Moondance mused. "Most of the time I do not think of the boy who threw himself from an _ekele_ window as myself." He paused and the silence flowed back. Then: "Perhaps it would help if I told you a story. Will you listen?"

Tylendel's jaw tightened. He did not want to listen. He did not want to hear the words of a stranger who seemed to think he knew something of Tylendel's loss. But the _Tayledras' _voice was quiet and still, like a gentle rain, almost hypnotic. He stood in the window with the open moon turning his hair to a fall of silver and shining silver in his eyes, and his face was a sculpture of light and shadow. Like in a dream, it was not possible to say no and Tylendel found himself nodding slowly in permission.

Moondance continued to gaze out the window, as if reading the words for this story written between the stars. As if it were as far removed from him. "There was a boy named Tallo. He lived in a village where his parents were farmers. They were good people, really, very tied to their ways, to their land, to the cycle of the seasons. This boy, Tallo ... was different. As he grew, he began to experience things inside him that were at odds with their simple life. He found he wanted more that just fields and harvests, and this they did not understand. They did love their son, though. They tried. They tried to get him what learning they could, to get the priest interested in him. They did not understand that what Tallo felt was different to the calling of a priest. It was only through the books that the priest found for him that he learned at last to name it magic. Through these few books and the legends and tales he heard, he tried to learn how to use it. And so he grew more different, from former friends, from family, and began to walk alone. His parents could not understand the strange paths that their son had begun to follow and wanted only to call him back to their way of life. And there was another thing. By now his family expected him to think of marriage and to start a family of his own. But the boy Tallo had no yearning for young women — but young _men_ — that was another tale.

"Then one summer, as the arguments and the anger flared ever higher, there came a troupe of gleemen to the village. And the boy Tallo found that he was not, after all, alone in yearning for his own sex. There was a young man with the gleemen, a very handsome young man and Tallo found something he had never encountered before. They became lovers — and Tallo — Tallo was suddenly, incredibly, happy. He planned to leave the village, to run away with his lover. But it happened that they were found together. The parents, the priest, the whole village were most wroth. They beat Tallo, and his lover too, and turned them out of the village with stones at their heels. Then it was that the young gleeman turned away from Tallo, and in his own anger and pain he said what he did not mean — that he wanted no more of him.

"Then Tallo became wild with rage. He too was in pain and suffering, cast out of home and family for his lover's sake and now rejected — and in his anger and fear he called the lightening. But he called on a power far greater than his half-learned magic could control. He meant only to frighten. But instead he killed."

Moonlight traced paths of liquid silver down Moondance's upturned face. Grief pooled in his eyes.

"There is more. With his barely understood powers, Tallo had heard his lover's thoughts even as the young man rejected him. He knew that his lover had not meant in truth the things that had slipped from his tongue in anger. Tallo had wanted only to have him say aloud what he saw already in the other's mind. And so he called the lightening to frighten him. But the lightning would not obey him, called at it was by anger rather than skill. He heard his lover crying out in fear and terrible pain as he died and Tallo unable to save him. Tallo could not live with what he had done. With the dagger from his lover's belt he slashed his own wrist and waited to die, for he felt that only with his own death could he atone for murder."

Moondance lifted his hand to his face, perhaps to push back the heavy fall of his hair, perhaps to brush at the silver tears. Moonlight spilled down the pale scar that ran from wrist almost to elbow.

"Tallo did not die. There was a stranger on the road that day, one who felt the surge of power and read the signs and knew it for magic out of control. She found the two young men, one dead, one bleeding out his life. She saved the one she could and brought him to a friend, who she thought might be able to help."

Moondance was silent for a time, gazing up at the moon, and wetness shone on his cheeks, but his face was still, like a statue in the rain.

When he spoke again, there was a raw pain that muted his voice, as if remembering a grief of only yesterday, so that he spoke softly but still somehow with absolute clarity. "So Tallo came to k'Treva and found there the learning he thirsted for. He found a place among these people with powers that they valued so highly, and he learned how great was his gift as a Healing Adept. He found too that he did not want to die, that life was something not to be given up despite the pain, yet he knew that he must pay for what he had done. Starwind's solution was to declare that the boy — who now even in looks was becoming more and more _Tayledras_ — was no longer Tallo. So Tallo died for his crime, and a new person was brought to life, one Moondance k'Treva. Moondance — mage, Healer, and beloved of Starwind. But sometimes the boy Tallo stirs in the heart of Moondance — and he wonders — and he weeps — and he mourns for the wrongs he has done. And he does not forget, because that is part of what he owes, to both of them."

Silence again in the moonlight, and it seemed that Moondance had come to the end of his story. He turned, his eyes finding Tylendel's, and they were bright yet heavy with sadness.

"Would you weep with me? For the victims of our crimes? Another thing I have learned here is that weeping alone is bitter, but together perhaps comfort can be found."

Almost Tylendel crumbled. There was a depth in Moondance's voice, in his very presence, that urged him to lay his grief bare, to open his broken heart and maybe, just maybe find an answer to the loneliness and pain.

But the pain was so close to the surface —

_blue eyes — _

_You are not my Chosen _—

Didn't Moondance understand? It was not some young lover he had killed. It was — was —

He had died with Gala that night _—_

_You are not my Chosen_.

Pushing away grief he found the anger in it's place. "So you're saying if I change my name everything will be fine?" Perhaps the words hurt. He didn't particularly care.

"You are not the same as Tallo," Moondance answered. His voice was even but he turned his face away and it was suddenly as untouchable as the moon. The tears had stopped as if they had never been. "But you are no longer Tylendel-the-Herald, just as when she Chose you, you ceased to be Tylendel-second-heir-to-Frelennye. In a sense who you were died with her. Who will you be now?"

"If only —" The words whispered on his breath, and even Tylendel was not entirely sure which part of what the other said they were in response to.

"Ah, you will never live that way," Moondance said gently, shaking his head. "I would not deny your guilt — how could I? But is the future not worth looking towards, to see what this new person will be?"

"Nothing!" The words burst from him as if he were choking. "I have _nothing_ left." _I cannot forget her — I am empty _— And whispered: "I deserve nothing."

"Wrong. You still have your studies and your power — you have not lost that, only misused it. You have the love of your teacher. And your _shay'kreth'ashke_, who needs you still. He is not so changed from the boy you saved from his nightmares."

"He doesn't need me." Anger and bitterness carried his words — _Yfandes_ — He would rather stop talking, would rather run from this calm, gentle stranger, but the words seemed to come of their own accord and he flung them in the face of the other's sympathy. "We are not _the same_! She was a _Companion_, not some young fling! She was — she was Gala —"

Moondance turned away. The fall of his hair hid his face as he moved into the shadow beyond the window. His next words were so soft Tylendel wasn't even sure he heard them:

"_And he was Alik._"

Softly, Moondance slipped across the room to the hatchway. He did not look round as he spoke, but he held himself straight and graceful as ever. "Perhaps you can deny yourself the warmth of the sun in endless punishment. In which case the window may be a kinder fall than the emptiness inside. I prefer to find another answer." And he slipped down the ladder and was gone, leaving Tylendel alone again with the night wind.

* * *

**A/N:** _"But sometimes the boy Tallo stirs in the heart of Moondance — and he wonders — and he weeps — and he mourns for the wrongs he has done." _— some lines just cannot be denied, or altered.

So: _Magic's Pawn_ (1991) 294-298. There are probably a few other examples. :)

Also thanks again to Shadowfax for letting me borrow her Moondance/Tallo. Certain details come from her version ... like the biting. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)


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